The Dealers of Death
by LuckyXFridayX13
Summary: Have you ever wondered what it would be like if your fate were decided for you? In Obsidian Steele's world, your fate is decided when you hit 15. What's worse, she's been given one of the worst fates, beside Death. She's been given the fate to have to Deal fate... a job dubbed "Dealers of Death". So, would you survive? Totally original action-adventure that WILL defy fate.
1. Prologue

Prologue

In the town of Grimm's Hollow, in the country of Kaishi, lies a strange ritual practiced when an individual reaches the age of fifteen. It could mean life or death, good or bad, but honey, you had better hope the cards are in your favor-_because the cards decide your fate._ That's all I can say for now. My name's Obsidian Steele. Wish me luck, for today, I face my fate.


	2. Chapter 1

_Chapter 1_

_Fate staring at me__  
__Just haunting me so softly__  
__No turning back now __  
__(a Dealer haiku)_

The Dealer shuffles the cards ever so slowly, as if to torture me. I gulp so hard I can practically taste the fear on the edge of my brain, icily sliding down my throat. The Dealer gradually sets the cards down, then motions towards a silent girl, about my age, to come over to where he's sitting. From the small sleeve of her jacket, she draws a silver dagger with a dark, crimson jewel on the hilt, glimmering like blood.

"I know you know what to do next, Obsidian." the Dealer says quietly. He drums his fingers on the table in a steady, nervous rhythm.

I do know what to do. And my blood, I know, is the key to my fate. And I'm scared to death of that fate. More scared than ever before. I quickly slit my index finger and squeeze the blood into a bubbling cauldron that has just been placed before me. The contents of the cauldron smell worse than moldy bacon. And as good as a good old slice of bacon is, I personally would suggest getting it before the expiration date is up. The cards are lowered into the pot at what seems to be the ratio of a millennium to an inch.

Finally, the Cards are fully submerged into the oozing pot of moldy who-knows-what. My churning stomach leaps into my throat, and I'm sweating as if I just ran a mile. After what seems like an eternity, 3 cards are pulled out before me.  
The first card is a flowing fountain.

"Long life... seems you're off to a good start." comments the Dealer.  
After breathing out a long sigh of relief, gather up enough guts to flip over the next card. A crystal ball is on the next card. It doesn't take a scientist to figure this one out, but with a Dealer, you never know.

"I'm gonna go with... fortune telling?" I say with a hint of doubt.

He smiles quietly. "Pretty close, but a fortune teller tells exclusively the future."  
He points to the dusty book that I hadn't noticed before on the card.

"See that book?" he asks me. "That stands for the past, while the crystal ball stands for the future. Besides, you are, by far, more gifted than a hag wearing a bunch of scarves, getting high on incense and cheating people out of their hard-earned money."

Jokes aside, he closes his eyes as if praying. I carefully reach for the final card. The purple paper is smooth in my hands. I shut my eyes tight and say a little prayer of my own. It goes something like, _"Dear God, please don't let me die so young and get me the flip out of this Hell-hole!"_  
I rapidly flip the card over. I open my eyes. A black skull stares back at me. The Dealer sign.

_Yep, death would have been a much better sentence._


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 

I freeze, stone cold, with eyes as big as a deer's when it's in the headlights of an oncoming car. This is just my luck. The rest of my life has been a total disaster, so why not add being an outcast in society to the list? Yeah, just great. If the Dealer is surprised, he sure isn't showing it. In fact, he must be practicing his poker-face, because he's looking pretty blank at the moment.  
"Hello? ANYONE IN THERE?" I yell in his face while rapidly waving my hands 2 feet in front of his face. I try again.

"Yeah, because I'm going through the WORST DAY OF MY EXISTENCE, thanks for asking!" I yell sarcastically.

"No... It can't be..." he mutters to himself. I stop going berserk for a second and study him. Why is he so weirded out? The Dealer stands up abruptly.

"You have the remainder of the day and tomorrow to pack your things and say your goodbyes to whomever. Now go home." he orders.

"I don't have any things to pack, or anyone to say goodbye to," I answer coldly. I can practically feel the daggers dripping off my words.

"Well, in that case, come with me," he replies.

I follow him through a dark hallway and into a small room with a few various people scattered around. A bald, muscular middle-aged man with a blonde mustache; A young woman wearing an apron and an annoyed expression, sitting on a couch with her feet upon the coffee table; A plump old woman dressed sort of like a gypsy, with dark brown, curly hair streaked with hints of gray. The girl I saw assisting the Dealer is sitting in the corner, long, jet-black bangs hanging in her face.

"Everyone, I'd like you to meet Obsidian, our new apprentice," he studies the room. "Wait, where the heck are Sebastian and Donnie?"

Just after he says this, two boys burst into the room at lightning speed. One has sandy blond hair and the other has brown hair like chocolate. Both have a panicked look on their faces.

"S-sorry we're late!" they both stutter.

"Ahem... as I was saying," he shoots a glare at the boys. "This is Obsidian, the new apprentice."

The old woman steps forward. "Hello, I'm Greta. It's a pleasure to meet you." She smiles warmly.

"My name is Gordon. Nice to meet you," The old, bald man holds out a huge hand, which I shake nervously. I'm not kidding; this guy could literally shatter my hand if he squeezed a tad too hard!

"Elsie. Welcome to our nightmare." The younger woman smirks and slaps me on the back. The other Dealers give her dirty looks. "Oh, so now I have to sugar-coat it like the rest of you?" She retorts stubbornly.

The blonde boy shrugs. "I'm Donnie."

The other boy blushes and awkwardly introduces himself as Sebastian. "…and that's Naomi. She doesn't talk much." He adds.

I look up at the last Dealer (you know? The one that got me into this mess?), expecting, at the very least, a name.  
"Aren't you going to give me a name?" I say impatiently.

He looks around and thinks for a while. He's probably trying to think up an excuse not to give me his name.  
"I don't have one." He finally replies.

Wow, am I right or am I right? That is by far the lamest excuse I've ever heard! At least put some effort into it dude!

"Fine. I'll just call you Mr. Meanie-face until you give in."

"What kind of a name is that and what makes you think I'll give in!" He says, outraged. This should be fun.

"The kind of a name you give someone who's too embarrassed to admit he has one." Donnie pipes in nonchalantly.

"NOT NOW!" We yell simultaneously, then go back to fighting like cats and dogs.  
After about twenty minutes of insulting each other, he finally gives in.

"Phileas." He turns a deep shade of tomato-red.

A miniscule shred of pity actually starts to well up in the depths of my heart. I mean, imagine having to grow up with a name like _Phileas._ I stare out one of the few windows in the room. I see a beautiful falcon soaring in between the trees. Falcon...hmmm... LIGHTBULB! I think that could work. With his cold-and-calculating eyes, he sort of reminds you of a bird-of-prey.  
I whisper my suggestion into his ear. He nods in agreement. I guess I'll take that as a thank you!

After a really good, hot dinner, I'm shone to my room (well, I have to share with that one girl Naomi, but she's not a chatter box or anything, so it'll be fine). I flop down onto the bed and carefully empty the pockets of my worn clothes. My eyes flick over to the other side of the room and settle on Naomi. I'd like to say our eyes met and we gained a subtle understanding of one-another. In truth, I have no clue about her.

My eyes follow Naomi as she walks towards a chest-of-drawers. To be honest, I'm a bit jealous because I don't own a spare set of clothes, let alone a chest-of-drawers. Over dinner though, Greta promised she'd make me some. I just made her promise there'd be no pink, or worse, sparkles _and_ pink, which she respectfully agreed to.

Naomi drops a pair of red plaid button-down pajamas next to me on my bed.

"Keep them." She says in the quietest yet beautiful voice I've ever heard.

Yep, no freaking clue.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 

Sun seeps through the blinds in the single window between the 2 beds in the room. I pick up my watch and read the time: 9:25 a.m. Crap! I overslept!

I practically jump out of my PJs and into my clothes. My socks slide as I skid into the bathroom to brush my teeth and splash cold water onto my face. My hair is a rat's nest, so I decide to deal with it later and throw my hat on over it.

The scent of banana pancakes waft through the air. This place is like a maze though, so I sort of follow my nose to the source. Thankfully, I find my way to the kitchen. Suddenly, a huge kitchen knife whizzes past my head, along with 2 bodies running like their life depends on it (judging by the knife, I'd say they were, heh heh).

"AND STAY OUT, YOU BRATS!" The cook, Elsie yells after them.

"Were you trying to KILL ME?" I yell at her, pretty freaked out by the flying knife, now stuck into the wall next to my head."

Elsie yanks the knife out of the wall and polishes the tip with a rag.

"Oh hey, Obsidian. Sorry 'bout that. Those 2 morons Sebastian and Donnie decided to try and sneak an early breakfast."

"Call me 'Sid. And 'early breakfast'?" I ask. Seriously, how late does everyone get up?

"Oh, about that... well, things don't usually get rolling around here until about 10, so you probably didn't need to get out of bed for another 20 minutes or so." Elsie flips a pancake up and lands it on the griddle perfectly.

"So, I have to ask you about your knife skills. How did you guarantee that you would hit anyone?" I ask, curious as to whether or not she hit the door frame with luck or skill.

"For the record, I've been practicing since I was a kid..." She looks down and sort of looks lost in thought.

A sudden pain shoots through my head my body feels like lead. Elsie yells in a distant voice for me to get up and stop goofing off. She yells for everyone to get over here and help. Images shoot through my brain of a girl being beaten and abused, a girl trying to fight back, a girl running away in the dead of night... a girl that looks like Elsie.

My mind goes black as my soul falls into an abyss of darkness.


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

My ears are ringing so badly, and my stomach's churning as if I'm seasick. What just happened to me? Those images just poured into my mind instantaneously, but that's never, EVER happened before.

"Hey, she's waking up." I hear a few hushed voices murmur. I muster up enough strength to open my eyes to find the whole population of the Dealer Quarters leaning over me!

"What the heck happened to me?" I mutter, somehow exhausted, although I've probably slept the whole day away.

"Hey, outta the way!" I hear Sebastian yell, pushing people out of the way. "Give her some space!"

Everyone scatters, muttering complaints under their breath. To be honest, I hadn't noticed he wasn't there. Maybe it was the excruciating pain in my skull. Just saying.

"You took quite beating, Obsidian. Must be the awakening of your powers." He starts checking my eyes and ears to see if there's any damage.

I lie and say, "I'm fine." He shakes his head in disbelief, not falling for it.

"You don't have to be embarrassed. We all went through it. I was spitting up blood. Naomi was screaming from the pain. Donnie passed out for 3 days. We all pretty much went through it. Just why did it happen so early? I wish Falcon was here..." His face becomes puzzled.

Wow, I didn't even come to the realization that Falcon was _gone_! "Where'd Falcon go anyways?" I ask while trying to sit up. Pain shoots through me again. Sebastian grabs my shoulders and eases me back down.

"He's at a council meeting with the Head Dealers from other towns. He left for it an hour after you passed out. It sounded kind of urgent..." He pauses and grabs a bottle of pain killers (or at least, that's what they look like) and puts a few into his hand. "Take some, it'll help the pain." he tells me.

I take some with some water. It's not like some magical transformation over takes me, but the pain goes down to a dull roar instead of a piercing scream. Wondering how long I slept, I ask Sebastian ,"How long I was out?"

He checks his watch and says, "About 17 hours, more or less."

I shoot out of bed, shocked at how long I slept. "YOU'RE TELLING ME I SLEPT THAT FREAKING LONG!" I shout, sure I've woken the entire village of Grimm's hollow, but I don't care.

"Get some sleep. Trust me, you'll need it." Sebastian packs up the medical supplies and goes to the door. He shuts the light off when I remember he called me "Obsidian"

"Wait," I whisper "Call me 'Sid."

He nods, then I close my eyes and try to dream good things, even though I'll probably never remember them when I wake up.


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

I slept for what for what feels like an eternity, so at about 5 am, I wake up, which is a big rarity for me. I don't feel like going back to sleep, so I sit up and stare out the window, through the slits of the plastic, white blinds. I feel like I see something move, but it's super-sonic. I don't like being here. It's like an alien planet. But hey, welcome to my life.

My clothes are a mess, so I get up and try to find a washer. Turns out it was right next to the common room. Also turns out that old people get up this early regularly.

"Good Morning, 'Sid. And how are you this morning?" Greta says in a sugary voice, as if it's the middle of the day and she just won the lottery.

"Hi." I mumble, less than enthusiastic about being rudely (I don't care if I woke up on my own, it was still _really _RUDE!) awakened so early in the morning.

So, in the 4 hours or so that I've been up, I've learned 3 things: I can't knit (which I pretty much figured as soon as Greta picked up her knitting needles), I can't drink coffee (which I hadn't planned on liking- as soon as I tasted the stuff Baldy gave me, I dumped it into the sink), and I can't cook - UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES (hey, don't judge)! And around 9 o'clock, Donnie and Naomi decide to drag their lazy butts out of bed (Sebastian won't be up for a while, since he's worn out from constantly checking on my well-being). I feel sort of bad about it. I don't ever want to rely on anyone, no matter how bad things are. I've already made that mistake once...

While we eat a delicious (ha. ha.) breakfast of singed eggs and charcoal potatoes, Elsie gives me the low-down on what we're doing today.

"Ok, I know you've pretty much just recovered and all, but we really need to get started on your training." Elsie says while dousing her burnt breakfast in ketchup.

"Ok, so what do I do?" i ask, hoping it's not some sort of stupid prank they pull on the new person, like making them do 1,000 jumping jacks in a pool filled with grape juice, or singing the ABCs backwards while brushing my teeth with horse radish. *shivers*

"Self Defense is the first thing on the list." Elsie answers, making a queasy face as she takes a bite of her food. 'Hey 'Sid, remind me to NEVER, EVER let you near the kitchen again."

"Shut Up," I mumble, not really offended because I know she's right. "So, self-defense..."


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Donnie swings at me, precisely clipping my cheek, just milliseconds before I block it. But that punch was just a distraction, because before I can react, a sidekick barrels my way. My cheek stings, my muscles ache, my lungs burn- but I'm not complaining. This is my game. This is living, and win or lose, it's exhilarating.

I narrowly miss being slammed with a roundhouse, and actually manage to hit him with a surprise snap kick. He answers my kick with a right hook. I can hardly get a hit off him. My unusually sharp senses are mush- it's like he can read my movements before they even happen. It's freaking scary! I throw a jab, which lands inches away from his chest. No, not even that- maybe an inch, at best. I gear up to throw a sidekick, but overturn my foot and lose my balance. I try to put my foot down, but that's when it's over. Donnie _sidekicks_ me in the solar plexus (oh, the irony), ending it all.

The padded mat I hit feels like solid concrete. Regaining the breath that has been knocked out of my lungs will be a chore. Elsie blows the whistle, signaling the end of the match. Yes, she's not only the cook; she's also a self-defense teacher. She has a second degree black belt in Aikido, a style of martial arts (it's a style where you take the energy of your attacker and redirect it to your advantage). She's tough, too. Push-ups, crunches, various stretches, jumping jacks, basic kicks, strikes, and combinations are among our training schedule. I'm in pretty good shape, so I'm not hurting too bad.

Elsie rushes over to me and helps me sit up.

"That's it, nice and easy. Now just breathe," she instructs me. Not in a bossy tone, but soft. Is there a really nice, motherly side to Elsie I don't know?

"Ok... I'll-," I try to say that I'll try to control my breathing, but Elsie claps a hand over my mouth a growls, "Shut up and breathe, DANG IT!"

Where'd that of motherly-ness go?

"Are you okay?" Donnie asks me, not looking all that surprised, although I can see a hint of concern in his eyes.

"Yeah... I think so." I huff. Elsie rolls her eyes at me not listening to her, then gets up to get some water.

I look over at him, wondering how he could read me like a book, when he says,

"You're wondering how I could react to your moves so well."

I nod. "Okay, let's hear it."

"The ability I have is that I can very carefully analyze things, very quickly- it can range from tensing muscles in a fight to decoding a scrambled word riddle -anything, really. The only way I couldn't use this is if my opponent had super-sonic speed."

I blink. "Did you by any chance have some sort of episodic breakdown because of it," I hope that Sebastian wasn't fibbing about this happening to everyone, hoping to make me feel better.

Donnie studies his chewed-down finger nails. "I was out for a few days. Then, everything felt louder, every shade brighter- more enhanced. But people react to it differently. Some people vomit, some faint, some just lose it completely. You blacked out because it was your Awakening. Did you have any unusual cards beside the Dealer card?"

I think back on this; I got the fountain, meaning long life; I got the Dealer card (doesn't take a brain surgeon to figure that one out), and, "I got the fortune card," I think out loud.

"Did you experience anything weird before you passed out?"

I nod. "These weird images were flickering through my head. It was like a movie, and the person I saw looked a lot like a small version of Elsie."

"Were you with anyone at the time?" he asks.

"Yeah, I was with... Elsie. Wait, did that have anything to do with that weird thing that happened?" I reply. I start to describe what I saw.

Donnie looks at me with troubled eyes "That wasn't a random vision. That was a flashback… of Elsie's past."


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Our conversation ended there, because we were called for lunch. Donnie hurried off without another word. After a reviving lunch of ham sandwiches and leftover potato salad, Gordon and Greta educate us on cards and their meanings. Sebastian (who just showed up), Donnie, and Naomi could all name at least 2 dozen cards a piece, given they've all been here for a while, as far as I can tell. So far, I can remember a few: an owl= wisdom, which means you might be a philosopher, a priest, or some type of scholar; a cornucopia means abundance or wealth; a seed means children (thank heavens I didn't get that card)- the list goes on and on.

"There are a total of 52 cards (54 counting jokers) in a traditional card deck. The same goes for a 'Dealer Deck'. Despite this resemblance, our version is very different; ours is always changing and interchanging your possibilities. The second your 3 cards are chosen, your fate is set in stone. Before you have your Dealing, you basically have _no fate_," Gordon had said his gruff voice.

_No fate_. Those words have been echoing in my head since 3'oclock. And the clock continues to tick. Am I supposed to believe this crap? That if I didn't bother to come (the wardens of Grimm's Hollow Home for Girls had to literally drag me here, but that's beside the point), I could choose?

The hot water streams down from the shower like rain. I wish it was raining. Because rain is the thing that makes me want to go outside and _dance_.

"Rain can make the lowest sewer rat feel clean. Rain is the one thing in this world that makes us equal." is what my best friend used to say. She was... No, is, the fiercest person I know, but she would say this with the most contemplative look on her face. It makes me want to cry just thinking about it.

Falcon finally returns at about 9 o'clock. All he does is nod at us, throw down his coat, and go to bed with a defeated look on his face. We don't even have the chance to ask him what happened before we hear his snores rumble through the house.


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"Just go before I get angry," Falcon growls through bared teeth.

"Fine, Mr. Meanie-head," I grumble. "And where do you suppose I should go?"

That smart comment of mine is what has sent me to the market on this fine, rain evening. Boy, do I have a talent for making friends. It's not my fault that he won't tell me what they were talking about at the meeting. Apparently, it's "classified".

First I stop at the butcher to pick up some meat (duh.) Then to the produce stand. I slowly go down the list of items, my arms slowly but surely, filling up. People chatter all around me; women squawk to their husbands about how the price of eggs has gone up from 100 to 150 cos. Children dart in-between the legs of shoppers, playing tag and laughing. Mangy dogs and scrimpy cats prowl the alleyways, eyes scanning the ground for discarded food. I feel sorry for the poor beasts and toss them a piece of meat. A mob of dogs pile onto one another, fighting for the food. A small Jack Russell quickly jumps out of the pile with the chicken leg in its mouth. The struggles of the street rats continue.

Falcon had given me some money and a coupon to show to the vendors. "For 'special services to the city'," he had said with a sigh. Apparently, we get discounts on all of our food. That discount, however, comes with a price.

Store keepers glance at the paper, then at me, with an uneasy look on their faces. I try to smile, but it's so hard, considering I would _love _to drop-kick them and yell, "HEY, WHAT'S YOUR ISSUE? DO YOU REALLY THINK I'M GOING TO KILL YOU BECAUSE THIS IS _MY_FATE? THAT SHIP HAS SAILED, SO WHY DON'T YOU GIVE ME SOME DANG RESPECT!"

When I was a little girl, my mom ran an exotic tea shop. She always treated _everyone _the same. She didn't look at a Dealer any differently than a law-enforcer or a baker. Dealers would come in all the time just to chat. There was a Dealer who would always come armed with some candy for me, and this old woman, probably retired or dead by now, who would pinch my rosy cheeks. I hated the cheek-pinching, but it reminded me that Dealers are pretty much the same as everyone else, aside from the crazy powers.

The streets are dark, except for the dim lanterns that hang in front of closed shops. Rain beats down on me, but I feel too tired and cold to dance. Plus, I'd probably end up with tomato paste down my shirt or something, with all of these heavy bags. The street is empty, but it's almost too silent. I feel like I'm being watched.

A huge _something _steps out from an alleyway.

"Oh. Fudge. Who or what is that?" I barely breathe. My legs tense up; I'm assessing whether I should run or fight, but since I don't know who or what I'm up against, both could be equally dangerous.

"Are you Obsidian Steele?" A deep, gravelly voice asks, the behemoth coming into full view.

"What do you want?" I growl, prepared to hit the ground running. Before I can take a step, he wraps a colossal hand around me, trapping my arms. I bite down into his thumb, but I get slammed with an earth-shattering sock to the gut. I feel like I'm gonna toss my cookies.

"The Formula, Dealer"

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Not talking? You're no good to me, you stupid kid."

His massive fingers wrap around my throat. I kick and fight for air, but it's no use; my vision's getting really hazy. Am I going to die? Who am I kidding? I'm about as good as dead…


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Someone barrels down from a roof top and drives a brick into the back of Mystery Thug's thick skull. His fingers uncurl, dropping me without warning. I slip down, 6-8 feet below. Sebastian lands like a stealthy cat. My attacker wobbles, and starts to fall. I barely roll out of the way before he hits. I barely roll out of the way. The impact shakes the ground. Shakes it _like a freaking earthquake_.

Before I can fully replenish my oxygen, Sebastian pulls me up and breathes one word to me, "Run."

So we run like our lives depend on it (which they do), for several grueling blocks. When Sebastian stops me, I nearly collapse. Doubled over, so many questions are buzzing through my air-deprived brain: What formula? How did that creeper know my name? What are they keeping from me?

"You wanna tell me who or what that guy was?" Squinting, I struggle to see in the dim light. Both my knees are scraped, and my stomach hurts to no end.  
Sebastian just shakes his head and motions for us to keep walking.

"Where are the groceries?" Falcon asks when we trudge in, sopping wet from the heavy storm that started on the way. Falcon continues his rant, "And where were you, Sebastian? You were supposed to assist me in Dealing."

"Snap" goes the string that was my last shred of patience. I've had it!

I grab falcon's shirt collar and sneer, "Groceries? Who the heck cares! I was attacked by freaking Jack the Not-So-Friendly Giant, and you're concerned about _groceries_? I would be dead if Sebastian hadn't saved my hide! Why don't you check your facts before you go off on people! Let me tell you something-"

Gordon puts a hand on my shoulder and gently makes me release my hand. "I think she needs to know," He says softly.

Falcon sighs, then nods," I think we need to sit down. This may take a while."


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Everyone is seated around the long kitchen table. I've just, more or less, filled them in on Sebastian's and my fun little adventure. Thick wool blankets are wrapped around us (So we don't catch pneumonia—wouldn't that be a real mood killer? Ha. Ha). My knees are patched up; a massive purple and blue bruise runs from my belly button to my ribs, which I suspect may be cracked. My neck has large, noticeable red marks from nearly being choked to death. A steaming mug of tea sits in front of me, but I don't drink it. I lost any appetite I had had an hour ago.

Falcon clears his throat. "I apologize for the misunderstanding. I take full responsibility for the fact you were attacked."

"Just get on with it," I groan.

"When this country began 100 years ago, we immediately rose to a high power. We don't know exactly why; all we know is, the cards that our founder- err, _gifted_ us with- caused us great economic success. However, this prosperity made us a huge enemy. Kinzhal, to the North, became jealous of our prosperity and has been sending an elite group of research specialists and assassins, called the Enigma. You were attacked by one of their members. Any questions?" Falcon drums his fingers on the table.

"Yeah," I answer," He asked me for a 'formula'. He was a bit obsessive over that subject, 'cause after I didn't have it, he was all like,' you're no good to me! Die, fool! ', or something along those lines." I roll my eyes. Really? People these days!

"I was getting to that. We held off telling you anything about until necessary. I wanted to avoid the risk of you being tortured for information. In hind sight, I suppose I should've over-looked the fact that they still might find you and kill you. One less Dealer or Dealer Apprentice would be an advantage."

I scowl in disgust." No one can break me after what I've been through." I don't want to remember, but I can't help it. I think I'll put up my mental wall now. MENTAL WALL INITIATED!

"Sorry to doubt that, but we didn't know what sort of resolve you have. However, we can't take on weak ones. It's not just our job to make our fellow citizens miserable; we are a key part in battling the Enigma. In fact-"

"Just get to the part about the formula already!" Elsie cuts in irritably.

Falcon rubs his temples." You're giving me a headache that could stop a horse! Okay, okay. You know how most folks have come to believe the cards are the sole component of a Dealing? The Formula is the other half."

"What exactly _is_ a formula made of?" I ask.

"All you need to know is: the secret is in the blood."


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Skulls, lots and lots of skulls. Lined up in little rows. The light is dim; the trees are all dead and leafless. A skeleton springs to life, and like a twisted windup toy, hands me a dagger. I slice my arm in a smooth, downward motion. Blood rushes from my veins and into a giant pool. My reflection looks nothing like me; more along the lines of a shadow. The man of the Enigma appears, shrieking," Formula, formula, GIVE ME THE FORMULA!"

I wake with a start. Cold sweat is dripping down my face; my hands are cold and clammy. My heart is beating rapidly, like I'm going to go into cardiac arrest. I struggle to sleep, but it's no use. That nightmare was so disturbing; I can't begin to describe what it felt like. Like all the happiness had left the world, leaving nothing but bloodlust and unrest and despair. Tears and sorrow. Not a ray of sunshine to mollify it.

The hallways of the house seem so big. Every step sounds louder, every last floorboard creaks. Ground-breaking snores erupt from Greta's room. A rhythmic sound flows from Sebastian's doorway. I peak inside to see Sebastian sitting on the floor, bent over a light brown, acoustic guitar.

I knock on the door frame. Sebastian looks up, a little surprised to see me so late (or early- whatever floats your boat).

"Isn't it a bit late to be visiting people," he asks jokingly, still plucking away at the 6-string.

"Couldn't sleep. Was taking a walk," I reply," By the you were pretty awesome today. Totally save my hide. Thank you."

Sebastian shrugs," It was nothing, really."

I plop down next to him, and sit cross-legged. "So, how did you know," I ask," I was nearly dead and a mile away, at that."

"I guess you could say it's like 'maternal instincts'… except I'm not your mom…. And a guy… could we move on?" He says, a bit embarrassed, with pink showing on his cheeks.

I laugh for the first time in months. "Sure. So, what was that song you were just playing?"

"It's a song my dad wrote for me when I first learned how to play. Probably… probably the most important thing to me. I've memorized it, down to the last note."

Sebastian strums the strings like there's no tomorrow. His dad must have been a genius, because I would listen to this a thousand and one times if possible. Everything's so intricate, but so simple. No way to explain it. But then again, I've never been too articulate. One thing I know, he's been playing for a long time.

Little flashes of a little kid trickle through my head. He's smiling, sitting next to a tall man with glasses, whom he resembles a lot. The child holds in his hands a small guitar. Sebastian with his dad, learning to play. I'm so thankful, that this isn't a sorrowful memory. The world has too much hate already. I feel warm and happy. A smile forms on my face.

Sebastian looks at me." What?" he asks.

I smile a little more. "Oh, nothing. You know, you were pretty cute when you were little."

He looks at me with a questioningly. Then he smiles, too. The night flies by as quickly as he can strike a note.


	13. Chapter 12

Chapter 12 

It's been well over a month since I've become an Apprentice. In that time, I've trained physically, expanded my knowledge on the Cards, and, most importantly, learned more on the history of the Enigma. I still don't know a ton, but I do know that there haven't been any sightings for a few weeks.

Butterflies are floating around in my stomach. No, actually, not butterflies- it's more like bouncing bricks. That, of course, doesn't stop Elsie from shoving 2 pieces of toast down my throat. I hope I hurl on her head.

This last month has been really, really, REALLY (did I say really?) weird. Like, when I accidentally bump into someone or brush against them, I suddenly know they have 2 kids who died from pneumonia or I'll see a husband and wife arguing as if there's no tomorrow. It's sickening, honestly, to know someone like they know themself, just by touching them. It makes me feel like I have beeswax stuck inside my head, and there's no way to scrape the stuff out. I think what little sanity I have may go bye-bye if this keeps up.

Alright, so here's why I'm having an internal freak-out moment, which may cause me to barf on Elsie's head. Today's the first day I ever assist in Dealing. Normally, it takes 2-3 _months_ to do this, but for some reason, Falcon and the other Dealers are under the illusion that I can handle it because my awakening happened so early on (like, less than 24 hours after I became an Apprentice). I'm scared, though. What if I screw something up? Even if it isn't my fault, what if I affect someone's _life_? I'm practically disaster prone, judging by what has happened in the last few weeks!

'''Sid, it's time," Falcon yells from the hallway leading to the Dealing room.

I gulp nervously, and feel a slight hand on my shoulder.

"You'll be fine. You were my first," Naomi says in her small yet soul splitting voice.

I nod at her. I mouth the words," Thank you," before I hurry into the hallway where Falcon is waiting.

"Good luck," he says before handing me the knife needed for later.

Well, here I go; down into the dark maelstrom they call Dealing.

_No turning back now._


	14. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Falcon motions for me to sit in a folding chair in the corner. The knife glistens in my hand.

A red-headed girl sits across from Falcon at the table. She looks uneasy, like she's awaiting the death sentence. I wonder if that's how I was. Falcon is, once again, drumming his fingers against the sturdy oak table. Maybe he does that when he's nervous, even though he busts out that poker-face of his.

Falcon glances down at a piece of paper in front of him. "So, you're Matilda Johansson?"

The girl nods slowly. Falcon begins shuffling the Cards, as if _that_ will make any difference whatsoever. Fate is inevitable, after all.

Falcon gives me my queue to stand and retrieve the Formula out of a cabinet on the opposite side of the room. It's sits seething and threatening to bubble over the rim. Yuck… it still smells like moldy bacon. I crinkle my nose and try to hold it away from me, but it stills stinks worse than diarrhea.

Once I set the cauldron in front of Matilda, hand her the dagger. She gulps," Do I have to?"

"Sorry. Don't worry, it's not that bad." I murmur to her.

She looks up at me. "Will you please help me?"

I take the knife from her grip. I swiftly slice her finger. She winces, but says nothing more.

Her crimson blood trickles into the Formula in little droplets. The Formula turns from a muddy brown to a deep, pronounced purple. It's almost, I don't know, a bit beautiful.

I brush against her shaky arm. Images shoot through my head. It's like I can see her whole life in the blink of an eye. The chemistry test she failed, the kids who she ate lunch with, how she cried herself to sleep every night after her parents divorced- _everything_.

3 cards are pulled out of the pot. A mountain, fields, waves crashing against a rocky shore.

The mountain means she will face struggles. The fields mean she will probably be a farmer or something. The waves show she will encounter conflict, but the jagged edges of her life will smooth down in time.

Falcon relays all of the information to her.

She receives it calmly. "I can live with that," she says, smiling. Why does she smile? She's happy, despite the fact that she can't choose what she wants to do with her life. She turns towards me. "Thank you." She says.

On that note, she gets up and is out the door. My head aches from yet another vision, but I'm, personally, thankful this whole thing didn't go up in smoke. Some things are unavoidable, so I wonder what had me so scared. Who knows? Humans are confusing labyrinths, whose secrets will never be unlocked.


	15. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

I'm not sure what to do with myself. But I may go off my rocker if random peoples' memories keep popping into my head against my will.

"You know," I say between bites of my dinner (macaroni casserole, yum!)," I'm really getting tired of these creepy visions. I feel like my head is gonna explode, and when it does, I blame it on you people," I half-joke. I really am serious about spontaneous combustion in the north-most vicinity of my body.

Greta chuckles," Oh, sweetie, you won't explode!"

I roll my eyes. "How do you know? I could go 'BOOM!' right now, and you wouldn't even guess it."

She grows more serious, and stares me hard in the face. "That would be because, like you, I'm psychic."

A psychic? Like me? I guess I never thought about it, but obviously all Dealers have some super-human ability. What has she seen about me and everyone else? Hope it's not too personal, for the sake of my privacy, although I guess blaming her would make me a hypocrite.

"But considering how old you are, no offense, but would you go bonkers from all those memories plaguing you?" I feel all eyes on Greta and me. Nobody talks; they just chew like they're watching a drama.

"There are ways to keep you sane," Greta replies with a smile," but it's a matter of concentration. Do you think you can handle it?"

I nod," Well, I only have a shred of sanity left. I might as well try to hold onto it."

"Okay, hold on a minute," Falcon interjects," how do you know how to fix the issue? Couldn't you have told us earlier? Why-"

"Hush up, yaw hipper-snapper! Don't you know it's rude to interrupt in one's conversation? Be quiet and calm down," Greta scolds Falcon. Her eyes look playful, but the rest of her face is dually intimidating.

Falcon suddenly becomes very interested in his cuticles. "I apologize. I'm sure you have your reasons. Please, continue."

It's surprisingly amusing to see someone try to act mature, when you can see they want to argue everything under the moon! Heh.

Greta takes a very deep, cleansing breath. "We will start tomorrow morning. Don't you worry, 'Sid. You'll have the solution to your little dilemma soon enough. Now, if you excuse me, these old bones need to get some rest."


	16. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Why is this becoming the biggest cliché of my very existence? Once again, I'm sitting in front of a Dealer, talking about some life-altering decision, with no one else to take some of the eyes off me. A terribly uncomfortable position, if you want my opinion.

My eyes are still sticky from the sleep that I thought would never come. I know it was short lived, because it had to be at least 4 a.m. before I finally crashed. If you can tell by now, I'm not exactly a "daytime person".

"What I'm about to teach you," Greta begins, "could be the most important thing you ever learn, as a psychic, an Apprentice, or a future Dealer. This technique is called the Wall."

"Okay. And what exactly does this 'Wall' do?" I ask.

"The Wall will allow you to move freely and interact with people, without constant visions plaguing you. Once mastered, you can take it down and put it up freely. Trust me, dear, it works wonders. When I was your age, it used to drive me crazy, until I met a traveling guru who passed this trick along to me. Can't say I know what happened to him, though, he was such a nice man, but he just vanished like that," she rambles. A dreamy look drifts into her eyes. I fear she may be going senile in her old age. Suddenly, she snaps back to reality. "The first step, I suppose, would be for you to explain what was in your first vision."

I tell her everything in my vision, down to the last detail. Every last one is permanently etched into my brain. The beatings of a girl who looked like (or was) Elsie. She was only 11, and yet, being put through her own personal Hell. Red, oozing welts scarred her back. Her only haven was the woods, where she would wander around for hours after school, barefoot and enjoying it like it was a little piece of Heaven. Drunken parents plus a belt were it took for her to lose faith in everything. _Nobody_ should have to go through that. Most of the time, she would take the beatings silently, but sometimes, she had the guts to fight back. I could see it in her eyes; she wanted so badly to kill them. One day she snapped. She snuck out in the dead of night, hopped a ride on a train, and ended up in some rural area of Kaishi. There she found a travelling circus, where she practiced her killer knife aim. When she turned 15, they happened to be in this town, so she was Dealed here. She's been in Grimm's Hollow ever since, but at least she's treated right (well, at least by the people who matter).

A tear rolls down Greta's cheek, but she wipes it away as quickly as it fell. "Thank you," she says, "That's even more than I need to know. Put your hand on my arm, and we'll begin."

"But wait, what do I need to-"

Greta shushes me. I grumble a bit and place my hand on her wrist. An insane pulse of energy rushes through my body. I re-see everything I'd be happy to ignore. The vision is forced into my head, which feels like its being split open with nothing less than an axe. I crumple to the ground, the pain so intense, it's enough to rip out your sanity and throw it away as if it were nothing more than old shoes.

Greta looks at me hardly, and whispers two words: "Fight it."

It's an uphill battle. Everything gets more exhausting as you progress (or regress). Nothing feels positive, your morale drops, and you lose faith. Then an idea strikes you.

Hands pop into my head. Big, white hands _pop _into my head. Randomly, in the middle of excruciating pain. That's the kind of weird person I am, I guess. I feel like I need to do something, with them, because random hands don't pop into your head for a visit without a motive (or do they?). So I think:_ What do hands do?_ Hands hold. Hands hit. Hands pick things up. Hands pull you in and push you out. _Push out._ Just like waves pushing at the shoreline.

I feel like my mind is bending. I've been concentrating so hard, trying to make the hands push everything out. I can see things gradually receding, but this is taking too much energy to keep up.

The waves start pushing back at me. My skull may split any minute. The blood in my veins pulse, my heart rate might just _stop_ my heart, it's going so quickly.

Greta's voice penetrates the fish-bowl sounding barrier around my head. "Your almost there," she reassures me, "I can feel it."

I give it one final mind-push. Everything rushes out of my head like a dam just broke. I let out a gulp of air and open the eyes I apparently shut tight (I wasn't aware of either… should I be worried?). Greta looks even more drained of energy than I feel. She still manages to exhort enough energy to smile at me.

"Excellent work," she praises me, "You will have to make a conscious effort for a while, but you should be able to keep your head clear, for the most part. Be conscious of your thoughts, and push out the unwanted ones."

"Thank you, Greta," I tell her.

She waves it off as if it were nothing special, "Oh, but I wanted to. I promise we will have more sessions, sometime. For now, keep practicing, and there won't be anything nearly as painful as this. How bad was it?"

I rub my temples, which are still a little sore from the headache. "To be honest, I don't remember anything worse than that. I'm glad it gets better from here."

Greta chuckles, "Dearie, everything gets better eventually."


	17. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

"Elsie," I knock at the door's frame of the kitchen, where Elsie is energetically chopping up vegetables. She seems to be enjoying it a little too much, because she looks really disappointed that she has to stop. I walk toward her and say, "I need to talk to you about something."

Elsie stops, puts down her knife, and asks, "What about?"

"You know how I blacked out here, a few weeks ago?"

"Go on."

"I saw you…. in my head. You were a kid. It was… really bad," I answer tensely.

"What did you see?"

"They hurt you… with a belt. Those monsters made you feel unloved, unwanted, unnoticed... But that's not why I'm here. I'm here because I _have _to know why it was you who I saw."

Elsie suddenly looks so tired and troubled, when she's always this big ball of whirling energy. "Honestly, nobody is completely certain of why Awakenings happen when they do. Some say it's exposure to the Formula, but that wouldn't explain you at all, 'cause you hadn't been here a day (well, actually it could have been, but I doubt it). Another theory is will power (you know, someone concentrates long enough and their Awakening magically happens), but most people don't know Awakenings exist until they happen. So I think, as far as psychics go, I think that emotions have to mean something. I mean, not so much for people with physical powers, but the ones who use their heads, I think emotions around them can be important. I don't know, it's kind of complicated," she rubs her head in thought and continues, "I did have a lot on my mind that day. I remember you asked me about my knife throwing, and it just brought a lot back… I'm really sorry, if it was my fault. You were thrown into this pretty fast. I didn't Awaken for a few weeks, at least."

I don't say anything for a while. Then I look straight at her. "I don't blame you. Heck, you don't even know why this happens, so I couldn't blame you even if I wanted to." For some reason, my words sound cold, like I not quite convinced. After all, they've kept a lot from me, so why wouldn't they keep this from me? But I do (sort of) trust Elsie. I at least trust her not to lie to my face. She's a pretty straightforward person, from what I can tell.

"Thanks. But I think it is. Look, you can be all 'forgiving', but the fact is, maybe if you hadn't Awakened so early, you wouldn't have been hurt by that Enigma guy! Ever think of that? Face it, 'Sid, whether you want to face it or not, it's probably _my_ fault!" She looks so overwhelmed and guilty. Elsie straightens up and motions for me to move closer. She whispers ever so softly, "I'm gonna let you in on something: When someone's Awakened, they can sense it. The Enigma, I mean. They have this sixth sense or something, and they _know _when an Apprentice is Awakened. It's only a matter of time for them to find out who and where. _That's _why I blame myself. I really think you were affected by my thoughts."

"Whatever you say, but I can't blame people for something that happened because I was dubbed an Apprentice or whatever. What's done is done. Not your fault that I can't deal with people's private emotions and thoughts. Let's just forget it, okay?"

Elsie shrugs, "Fine. Think about it, though."

With that said, she picks up her knife and starts vigorously chopping what she'd left sitting there. I pick up a knife and start helping her. I pretty much keep helping her for the rest of the day. It was like any normal day. We found a rancid piece of cheese under the couch. I burnt pretty much anything Elsie gave me to watch (What can I say, I'm not a concentrated person), making her officially give up on any cooking skills that may be buried deep (_really_ deep) inside me. Before dinner, Donnie tried to swipe an apple, but before he could get a finger near one, Elsie lodged a tomato at him. It lands smack in his hair. I have to say, it was downright hilarious! I was rolling on the floor, laughing as they both proceeded to get into a food fight (wanna guess who won?). I even saw Naomi crack a smile.

Like I said, just another _normal_ day at the Dealer Quarters.


	18. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

"You know, we should do something _fun_ today, since this is the first day off we've all had in a while," Donnie had suggested during breakfast this morning.

Sebastian had answered, "Sure, what do you have in mind?"

I nodded in agreement. Naomi shook her head, "No."

"C'mon, Naomi, are you really gonna let me go with these two 'dangerous' boys?" I joked. Donnie rolled his eyes.

Naomi smiled. I turned towards Donnie, "So, what did you have in mind?"

Apparently, he had flinging mushy fruit at each other in mind. He should have brought Elsie along. Judging by what had happened yesterday, they would have had a blast.

Ah, so you have no idea what I'm talking about? What I'm talking about is Splunkin. Basically, you have teams of 2 shooting over-ripe fruit at one-another with big slingshots and hope you don't get hit. No padding. No shields. Just fruit.

Sounds fun, right? The best part? No winners, no losers.

So, we all divided into teams: Sebastian and me, Naomi and Donnie, and two other groups. The slingshot was surprisingly hard to pull back. I guess that's because I've never had to maneuver it before. I used to come here when I was a kid, and my mom or dad used to handle the physical part. I usually just found extra fruit to lob at people. Good times, good times.

Basically, we stayed there for about three hours. When we left, we had fruit in our hair, on our shirts, in places I won't even mention (ha ha). After we left, we walked around the town for a while. You should have seen the looks we got from people. Maybe it was the peach in my hair?

We got ice cream, even though it's only thirty degrees out, and ate it on the curb. We got one of those "looks" that said they knew we're Apprentices, but I don't really give a crap _why_. I'm just glad that I don't have to see those biased jerks' thoughts anymore. What do they know, anyway?

It was getting close to dark, so we started heading back. Everything was okay. The old wooden buildings' shadows loomed over us as the hidden sun sets. Then I saw it. It brings back of something I'd like to forget in a heartbeat.

The bloodstains were still there in the alleyway; like a rusty brown nightmare coming back to me. Trickling back like an incurable disease. Who am I kidding? I'd have to be one sick person to ever completely forget. It subconsciously haunts me, day in and day out. Her final breath; her cold face; her content eyes, are permanently etched into my soul. Every time I see a vision about death, I think of her. The memories of the last person I've dared to completely trust.

I stopped dead in my tracks, and just stand, staring. Unable to move. Barely breathing.

After a minute of me standing there, staring at what most people would think of as a smelly, old place where people place garbage cans, Sebastian turned around, and called, "'Sid? Are you okay?"

I snapped out of. "Y-yeah, I'm fine," I muttered, still in a bit of a daze.

He raises an eyebrow. As if to tell me, _whatever you_ say, _but I'm not buying it._

_You never quite can forget the things you lose. And, more than not, if it's someone important, it will weigh you down like you have rocks stuffed inside you. And, you can be sure I'll never forget the day when I lost… Evie._


	19. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

A little under 5 years ago, my parents… died. I was a little over 10 years old. I had no relatives, because my family had been pretty small from the start- my grandparents dead and any other distant relative unable to be detected. Naturally, I was sent to Grimm's Hollow Home for Girls. A.K.A. prison for orphaned juveniles. It was filthy, mice infested, the food was terrible, and overall very noisy. Did I mention the food stunk? Other girls pulled my hair and teased me, but I never cried; I took it as more motivation to escape. After 3 weeks, I got fed up and left when no one was paying attention. Not that anyone ever paid attention to me; I was like a lonely shadow when no one decided it would be fun to bully the little girl.

The streets terrifyingly huge, especially for a ten-year-old who hadn't even hit her growth spurt yet. For the first few weeks, I huddled on the ground and jumped at every noise. By day, I evaded police officers and scrounged for any food I could find, even leeks, which I hate. After the 3rd or 4th week, I was a hot mess; dirty, skinny, and lonely. I even contemplated turning myself in to GHHG. Then, one night, my saving grace appeared.

A punked-out girl, about 14 years old, tossed me half a loaf of bread. It smelled so good, despite the fact that it was stale, I drooled. Seriously. Drooled.

"You look pretty pathetic, you know," The girl had commented as she sat down next to me on the curb.

I took a huge bite out of the bread. "Buzz off, if you're gonna be rude," I retorted.

She laughed, "You've got spunk, kid, I'll give you that. I'm Evie. What's your name?"

"Obsidian… but you can call me 'Sid."

From that night forward, she was my partner in crime, my most trusted ally- and my best friend. She had spiky white hair, piercing green eyes, and a wicked grin that said, "Ha ha ha, if you don't mind now I'm gonna KICK YOUR REAR!" But she also was caring, despite her hard exterior and she could make the most depressed person laugh their guts out, if she wanted. Even though she was only 4 years older than me, she was like a mom.

Every so often, GHHG would catch one of us. We had a rule when that happened: _Don't go after the other person if they get caught._ That way, we had someone who would bust us out, when the time was right. Us vs. the world. It was great. But remember, great never lasts.

I was 14 ½ years old. We were walking through an alley way, so I could avoid getting caught by the cops. Evie was 19, well over the age where you could be sent to GHHG. I don't know why she didn't try to go and start over. Maybe she felt she still needed to take care of me. But if she had left, it wouldn't have happened. Or maybe it would have been me. Either would have been acceptable in my eyes.

Some muggers cornered us in the alley. They said they wanted our money, but we told them we didn't have any. That was a teensy lie, because both of us had emergency stashes sewn into the lining of our shirts, but they would know the difference. One thug lost his head and came at me with a lead pipe. I tensed for the blow. But it never came. Evie shielded me. Another one came. Another she took. She wouldn't let me wriggle out of her embrace and take a hit. It went on like this until the cops showed.

She peered into my eyes with a painful look. Painful for me, because she looked fulfilled. Then, she fell to her knees, and puked up a puddle of blood.

Evie died in the hospital that night. Her body couldn't take the beating she had. She had probably been hit over 40 times, a number that surprised the doctors. They had said they were surprised she had survived for more than an hour after that.

"Why did you do it," I choked out, ready to burst into tears. So many tubes were hooked up to her arms, painkillers seeping into her veins. It was horrifying to look at, to think that I caused it.

She took a shallow breath. "I've spent most of my life running. I don't have anything to live for, but you do. Figured I would go out fighting for someone who, matter. Don't follow in my mistakes… make something of yourself," she wheezed. One more breath escaped her lips, her soul slipping out with it, scattering like dust in the wind.

The funeral was downright depressing. Her body was wrapped in a simple white shroud. It was ignited on top of a pile of pine logs, where her remains floated up to the sky in the form of black ash. The last thing I ever saw of her.

I sent back to GHHG for the six months before I was granted adulthood and freedom. Although the urge always sat churning it me, I never escaped again. The place was still dirty, the mice were still there, and the food was still nauseating. Nothing had changed, except now, I was no longer teased; I was cut off from the group.

I shuffle through the drawer of the nightstand. Stashed in there, are the 3 things. 1), a corner ripped from my old blanket. A fuzzy, faded pink piece of fabric, from the blanket I slept with until I was 8, when I thought I was too old for blankets. 2), the candle I lit at Evie's funeral. The candle is a white piece of slender wax, with a burnt wick protruding from the top. 3), is my most important possession. The silver locket my parents gave me for my 10th birthday, about a month and a half before they died. On the left side, there's a picture of my parents, snipped from their obituary. On the right side, there's a picture of Evie, which a photographer was kind enough to take of her for me. My "memorial locket", you could call it. Memories of the day my heart shattered.

Mine is a story of loss, but wait- there's more to come.


	20. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

It's the Anniversary. I can feel it; even while I'm still asleep, it haunts my dreams. February 18th, 1916- the death date of my parents. It's been exactly 5 years now. Even so, my heart aches like it happened 5 minutes ago.

This is the part two I talked about earlier. No, I haven't ever forgotten to talk about this- sometimes, you can trick yourself into leaving the bad things to collect dust in the back of your mind, until it's time to remember again.

I go through the day, just like any other. Eat a bowl of Wheatflakes and milk for breakfast. I spar with Naomi, who, despite her slight build, is mind-blowingly tough. I actually managed to win today, but it does little to raise my spirits. I help Gordon stack boxes of who-knows-what out back. Just like any normal (?) day.

By now, I've learned to keep everything blocked up. I don't need anyone to know. Nobody needs to be concerned about me.

It's dinnertime, just like any average night. We sit, chewing on carrots and broccoli. Greta is preoccupied with searching the phone book for any known coffee bean suppliers. For some reason, plants that produce coffee beans have been dying, and we all know Greta can't go a morning without it.

Elsie scolds Sebastian, "Your food isn't going anywhere, so eat slower before I have to perform the Heimlich maneuver on you!" He shrugs and keeps eating at the same pace. Elsie smacks her forehead and goes back to eating.

Donnie turns to Falcon. "By the way," he says, "Mom's been nagging me to come home and eat dinner with them. I mean, if I had the choice, I wouldn't ask to go. But all she ever does is nag, nag, _nag_," He stresses the last word extra hard, "If I had a Sen for every time she-,"

I slam down my glass of milk, so that all of the liquid splashes out and starts running down my hand. I pull out my chair and stomp out without a word. I run outside into the cold February air. A ladder leans sideways against the house. I prop it up and climb up to the roof.

_That moron doesn't even know how much he has. He has a family to go back to. Or, at the very least, he has a mom who loves him. That would be enough for anyone with no one to go home to. One day, he's gonna lose her, and see how painful it is. He'll wish he hadn't whined about having dinner with Mom. Even if she couldn't cook to save her life, he'll regret every word._

The roof is cold, especially since it's the middle of winter and I'm wearing nothing but shorts, socks, and a short-sleeved shirt. I wind howls through my skin, making my very spine shiver. I refuse to go inside, even if I die out hear. I doubt that will happen, but still. I'm a stubborn little witch when I chose to be.

Footsteps plod across the ground below. Dead plants crunch as someone steps through them. I don't know whose, but I don't care anymore. If those freaking Enigma want me, they can come get me. I'll make them wish they'd never been born. I clench my hands into tight fists. _Come and get me,_ they sneer.

The ladder groans, as if it's going to snap. The beginning of a dark head of hair appears. Then dark eyes. Slowly, the rest of Sebastian's face comes into view.

"Can I come up?"


	21. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

I remain silent. "'Sid, are you alright?" Sebastian asks with an air of concern. This is _exactly _what I don't want.

I shrug, "Gee, I don't know, what do you think? I'm on sitting on a roof in the middle of winter for the fun of it."

"Don't be like that. C'mon, what's wrong?"

I draw my knees up to my chest, hugging them. I stare at my bare feet, turning red from the cold. I look directly into his eyes. "Are you sure you want to know?"

He stares straight back at me. "Would I even bother to sit up here if I didn't?"

I sigh, "Alright. Today… is the death date… of my … parents," I choke out. I can feel my throat closing up. Not tears. Anything but tears, "They… died in a train accident. They were on a business trip for something… I was at school and we were doing math and we got a call, and- they were… dead. Just… like that."

Tears start streaming down my face. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to stop crying. Lines run down my face, just like rain.

Sebastian reaches out and squeezes my hand. I flinch, and immediately pull mine back. What was that?

"U-um, sorry," he stutters, and starts to blush.

"It's… okay," I reply awkwardly_. _ I wipe away the tears, leaving nothing behind but a red, puffy mess. I sigh, "Do you wanna go back in?"

He nods. We slowly climb down the rickety ladder and back through the yard. We open the back door to the kitchen. Everyone whips around, still in the same spots they were when I left.

I turn to Donnie. "Listen to me," I say sternly, "Don't _ever_ complain about what you have. You hear me? Go have dinner with your mom, and I don't care if you like it. You'll regret it to the day you die, guaranteed, if you don't."

I go back to my room before can respond. I sure hope I got through to him. People always regret the small things, the undone things, and the unsaid words.


	22. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

"Hey, Donnie, 'Sid," Falcon calls after us as we leave the kitchen to go to the training room (a.k.a. the itsy-bitsy room in the back that smells like bologna filled gym socks); "I need a favor."

Both of us turn around, eager to get out of training. Its push-up day, and any will or way to get out of it is a blessing from above.

"What is it?" Donnie asks, already lacing up his shoes. Eager to leave, aren't we, Donnie?

Falcon fumbles around with a bag. He pulls out a thick file. "Here," he says, handing me the folder. I just about drop it. Geez, this thing weighs a ton! "I need you to take this to the town's safe. I have to Deal, (Greta came down with a nasty bug, so I have to cover for her) but under any other circumstance, I would go myself."

"I take its important?" I ask, handing the file off to Donnie, who takes on a shocked expression (probably due to the poundage!). I can't help but laugh.

Falcon nods, "Very. Be very, very, _VERY_ careful. If this got into the wrong hands, well… Let's not talk about that… Just assume it would screw up life as we know it," he warns us.

I gulp, "'Life as we know it'?" Way to put some pressure on two fifteen-year-olds.

"Very," he answers.

Donnie groans, "Crap. I don't like the sound of that."

Donnie drops the folder back into the bag. Falcon hands us both a knife with a leather cover and strap. "That blade is poisonous. Watch yourselves, or you may just end up with half the skin on your hand melted away."

I secure the strap on upper left arm, and then pull my jacket on over it. Donnie does the same, and we set out. The old backpack reminds me of the one I used to use with about five books shoved in it. I used to tow it two miles to school and back, every day.

The streets are almost empty. The only life, besides us, are a few skinny cats slinking around the garbage cans. Even so, even the strays are silent. It's like the whole world has decided to take a snooze.

A rush of wind blasts through me. It sends a tingle down my spine, putting me on edge. Someone's watching us. A breath of hot air whirls onto my neck. I spin around, but no one's there. I've clenched my fists so hard, my knuckles have turned white. Donnie, I can see, is determining where the first strike will be executed.

"Going somewhere?" a woman's voice purrs.

A tall, slim woman, with ivory skin, black hair that drapes around her shoulders like a blanket of night, full cherry lips, and dancing, twisted, thirsty purple eyes stands before us.

"Don't make this difficult, kiddies," she says, studying her fingernails, "just hand over the formula and I'll be on my way. It won't take long," she struts over to Donnie and runs a long, polished nail under his chin. He's totally mesmerized. Boys.

"Snap out of it, lover boy! We have a real problem here!" I shout. He shakes his head in confusion, and quickly launches a jab at her ribs.

She dances back like a freaking fairy. He doesn't even graze her.

She grins mockingly, "Want to try that again, little boy?"

Donnie messed? I grit my teeth. Nobody ever said we have an easy gig. It looks like it's only going to get tougher from here, so while we're at it-

"Let's Deal some Death!"


	23. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

A knife whizzes past my head, barely missing my nose, before it flies into a wall. Déjà vu, perhaps? I know this has happened before, _Elsie._

"We need to get out of here!" Donnie yells. He runs into a little shop that sells candles and jam and that sort of stuff, looking for a possible escape route. "No back door. Crap! This chick is physcho! I can't read what she's going to do next…. HIT THE DECK!"

We both fall to the floor. About ten scented candles (did I mention they're _still lit_?) flying through the air. I guess she ran out of knives. Good thing, too. Candles don't impale people.

I think I also have an idea. "Keep her busy," I whisper to Donnie, "I'm going in."

I crawl flat across the floor and behind a display. There she is: completely occupied with lobbing merchandise at Donnie. Not even keeping an eye on me, would could be her worst nightmare. Perfect.

I unsheathe my knife. It glistens in the light, looking thirsty for blood. I pull the knife upwards. Inch forward. Ready to slice and dice this maniac. And just as it all is about to play out perfectly- Donnie trips on a pile of cookbooks. Who leaves a bunch of cookbooks lying around on the floor? Do they _want_ someone to fall and break their neck?

The backpack gets hooked on a shelf as he falls. Donnie yanks it free, but the lining tears, the papers exploding out. They spill onto the ground, asking to be stolen.

The Enigma woman's eyes are so hungry. They dart from sheet to sheet, like they're trying to determine which one is the Formula. She licks her lips slowly. She reaches her hand out toward a sheet.

I shoot up behind her and trap her arms. I slash my knife across her stomach. Crimson blood spills out across the floor.

Her face contorts in pain. She sneers, "Naughty little girl, don't you know not to play with knives?" The woman slips out of my grip and knocks me back into some boxes. She picks a handful of pages up and scowls, "This'll have to do for now. Until next time, kiddies."

A tornado of wind erupts in the center of the room. Everything is in chaos, jars of jam flying of their shelves, books slamming into the windows; the wind is enough to jostle a grown person. Then, just like that, it stops. A book falls while in mid-flight, right onto my head. Ow.

And she's gone. Gone with the freaking tornado.


	24. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

I bend down to scoop up the papers that few by me. I rush around, and pick up all the strays by me. I throw them into a messy pile.

"Hey, you kids!" A man's voice hollers at us. I shove the papers into my jacket and turn around quickly. An angry-faced cop stands in the doorway. He says with a nasty scowl, "I got a call saying you two were disturbing the peace. Not to mention pillaging this here shop. I'm taking you in."

I glance back at Donnie. He still hasn't gotten his papers together, which are still in a messy heap behind a shelf. I can see the wheels turning in his head, though, even if I haven't known him long.

The officer stares down at the blood stain in the middle of the room, and changes his expression to a sort of "What on God's green earth happened here and when can I leave?"

"Officer, it wasn't us, I swear!" _Well, actually, it was kind of us_, but, "We were attacked by a physcho chick, but she bounced before you got here," I plead with him. He doesn't look terribly convinced. Hey, I gave it my best shot.

"Look, girl, you can plead your case with the court. For now, you're under arrest."

Donnie makes a sick face. "Wait," he groans in a sickly voice, "I need a minute."

The officer nods. His foot impatiently taps, clacking against the scuffed hardwood floor. Donnie grabs a nearby waste basket and takes it behind the shelf. He makes some convincing gagging noises. I know what he's doing. He's shoving papers (most likely) up his shirt.

He stands up and wipes his mouth, like he'd been getting sick. "Sorry," he mutters in pseudo misery. I could burst out laughing. He's such a good actor. "I'm not good with the sight of blood. Or the smell."

The officer slams us in the holding cell at the back of the town's single police car. I slide down to the cold metal floor. Oh, God. _Falcon is going to murder us. _We lost some of those oh-so important documents. Which he warned us to keep out of the danger. Oh crap.

I hold my head it my hands. My temples pound like a whole river is rushing through my head. "Donnie, what's gonna happen?" I ask.

He closes his eyes in thought. "Relax, I already looked at them. They're encrypted with a code, and it's hard as heck to crack. I managed to take a peak while we were walking, and it took me a few _minutes_. That pretty much means, for a skilled code-cracker, it'll take a month, at least. And there's a different code on each page. No obvious patterns. So don't worry. We'll get them back… I hope," he mutters, "by the way… it'd probably be best if you didn't say anything about me looking at anything."

"What if they copy the pages? Heck, we don't even know where the original copy is going. It'd be a nightmare tracking multiples down."

"Hmmm… they probably won't. I mean, they have enemies, too. Our allies wouldn't dare attack us, but wouldn't mind taking a shot at Kinzhal. The less copies floating around, the better the chance of keeping everything safe. On the other hand, sending out copies to their best guys might speed up the process of cracking the code," He scratches his head in thought and sighs in dismay, "I guess there's no guarantee on what they'll do. Me, though, I would bet on the former."

The car comes to a stop. Ow. My butt hurts from sitting in this rolling cell. The officer opens the door and leads us into a tiny building. In the lobby (which is tiny desk and folding chairs in a glorified hallway), the policeman asks us, "Okay, kids, what are your names?"

I love it how we're forced to go to work and leave "childhood" forever, but in their eyes, we're still "kids". Why people can't make up their minds is beyond me.

"Obsidian Steele," I answer.

"Donnie Carmala," Donnie says.

"Your_ full _name."

"Donnigal Carmalo."

Seeming satisfied, Officer What's-His-Face leads us to our cell. He turns to leave; I pull the papers out of my jacket and quickly throw them to Donnie, who stuffs them under his shirt. Thank God he didn't do a very thorough check. Maybe he's in a hurry?

"Wait, don't we get our calls?" I ask, hiding my annoyance to avoid getting on this guy's bad side. If this is his decent side, I'd hate to see the ugly one.

He rolls his eyes and lets me out of the cell.

"She can have my call, too," Donnie calls after us.

I pick the phone off of its receiver and turn the dial to the right numbers. The phone rings. And rings. I put the phone down and try again. The same thing happens.

"C'mon, pick up, pick up, _pick up!_" I yell at the phone, "Stupid no-good lousy jerks! Why can't they come to the phone!" I slam it down. Yes, I talk to inanimate objects. Do you have a problem with that?

Officer What's-His-Face returns me to my cell. He probably thinks I belong in an insane asylum, not a police station.

"I could probably break us out," I offer.

"Don't tempt me," Donnie replies.

After a small fraction of forever, the officer comes in.

"Steele, Carmalo, today's your lucky day. You've been bailed, and given a full pardon," he says less-than enthusiastically.

_Steele_. I sound like a hardened criminal. It sounds _so right_. I'm not going to lie, that scares me deeply.

We're lead into the "lobby, where falcon is waiting for us.

Falcon shakes head at us. "Let's- let's go home."

Good riddance, Officer What's-His-Face. Hello, the Devil himself.


	25. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Falcon grips the steering wheel as if he's going 80 miles an hour, on an icy road, with squirrels flying at the windshield. It's like he's trying to focus on anything than bailing us out. We didn't even do anything wrong. Someday, he'll look back on this and laugh… or not. Knowing Falcon, probably the not.

Of course, Donnie has to get the ball rolling and ask, "So… how did you know we were in the cooler?"

Falcon grips the steering wheel even harder, and sighs, "It was simple. All I did was follow the trail of chaos. And genuinely peeved towns-people. What were you idiots thinking?"

"You know what? We were attacked by a genuinely physcho Enigma chick. Thanks for asking about our side of the story," I retort.

"Crap, not again! I can't send you anywhere, 'Sid, without someone going after you. What are you, a fan favorite or something?" He takes a deep breath. "Are the papers safe?"

Our faces go paste white.

Donnie squeaks out, "Well… we kind of… sort of… lost a few." He looks like he may wet himself. I guess that means two of us.

Falcon slams on the breaks, throwing us forward until the lap belts save us from flying into the glass. "You WHAT now?" he growls.

Donnie cringes back into the seat. "Sorry, the bag kind of caught on something, it went 'boom!', and the papers went flying everywhere. Just be happy we got _most _of them. She could've stolen the all of them." Donnie lifts up the pile he had hidden under his shirt. I can hardly believe we smuggled those things in and out of there. There's some really tight security nowadays, right?

"Grateful nothing! How many are gone?" Falcon snatches the pile of papers right out of Donnie's hands and starts leafing through them. "Eighteen's missing… So are fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, and nineteen. Five in all. Thank God the Formula is still here. Unfortunately, she got away with the half the coordinates to Dealer facilities."

"Umm… on the bright side, I managed to cut her a little with my knife," I pull it out from under my jacket. Geez, that was _really_ stupid, not patting us down for weapons. Maybe he's new on the job. No. He was too old. Alright, it was a slip-up, it happens, but seriously! Stupid, really.

Falcon nods solemnly. I guess that didn't cheer him up much.

He hits the gas, and soon we're back to the Dealer Quarters. Falcon calls an emergency meeting. Donnie and I spend all of ten minutes explaining before there's a murmur of panic spread around like a thick layer of margarine. I hate margarine.

"We've gotta go after 'em!" Elsie explodes.

Sebastian and I mumble our agreements. Naomi nods quickly.

Gordon shakes his head, "That would be a foolish mistake. We must travel to Head Quarters to devise the most accurate plan," he looks back and forth, scanning all of us. "Or, at least, you young ones must go. I am aging, and I fear, am not as capable as in the past."

Greta says, almost forcefully, which is very weird for Greta, "Go and contact Head Quarters. And everyone else, go and pack provisions. It will be a long journey, and you'll need supplies."

Gordon says quietly, "Don't fret. We will handle everything here. We are not so old and incapable that we cannot handle a few Dealings."

Falcon turns to the rest of us and says, "Get packing, then get some sleep." He stares at the already-setting sun, hues of red and orange and pink painting a huge, muddled picture across the sky. He rubs his eyes, already seeing our nightmare unfolding. "We leave at dawn."


	26. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

The sun has barely crept across the horizon as the train groans into the station. 5:30 a.m. It's exactly half-an-hour late. The air is so freezing. It sinks its teeth in through the seams of my jacket, the exposed area on the back of my neck, my face, my bare hands- anything else to make waking up so early the time of my life?

The conductor hollers, "ALL ABOARD!"]

We all enter the back car, and take our seats. Ah… a little warmth in here. Don't _ever_ take it for granted, you hear? It puts a real damper on things.

I try to rest my head against the window. But, sheet of ice-cold glass doesn't make a really great pillow, so no naps for me. Welcome to winter, folks, home of the snot-sicles.

"So, do you want to tell us where exactly we're headed?" Donnie asks Falcon.

Falcon opens an eye, "South," he mumbles groggily, then closes his eye and goes back to sleep.

Elsie laughs, "Sorry, Donnie, there's no way he's going to answer you this early," she turns to Falcon and yells in his ear, "'CAUSE FALCON IS A LAZY SACK IN THE MORNING!"

His glare is piercing. He turns to the window and grumbles. If I'm not mistaken, his next move may be to rip off Elsie's head and discard it into the nearest wastebasket.

"Are we going to the capitol or something?" asks Sebastian.

Elsie shakes her head. "No, it's much better than that."

The Seiiki Mountains roll by like huge ocean waves. Not that I've ever seen an ocean. Mostly just pictures and drawings.

Naomi scribbles into a little black notebook. I peak sideways at the pages, but I can't quite make out the words.

"Do you want to see?" She asks quietly. I nod, and she lightly hands me the book.

I turn the white pages, reading every last word, tracing every line, savoring the little window I've been allowed to see into her mind. Every poem weighs a thousand pounds in your heart. All things we can relate to- life, death, love- every thought, every word, is drawn straight from her soul. One of the first I read is, by far, my favorite.

Every Last Leaf

Leaves tumble off

The dying trees

Like the dying years

Of our waning lives

Words unspoken

In crimson,

Amber,

And golden hues

There are so many things I regret not doing. Like kicking every last one of those good-for-nothings at GHHG square in the nose. Or taking a more hits for Evie. Or telling my parents a more million times than I ever did "I love you".

Finished with the book, I hand it back to Naomi, and close my eyes. I've seen a part of Naomi, much more than what strikes the surface. Something that she'd afraid to-

A sharp pain pulses through my head. A flash of images flicker behind my eyelids.

A little girl runs through a huge, flowery garden. A long, lacy dress flows around her. Her long, dark hair is tied back in a ribbon, revealing wide, bright, blue eyes. A smile lights up her face when a butterfly lands on a blooming flower, right in front of her. She runs inside to a big, fancy-looking house.

"Mother, Father!" she yells.

"Do not speak unless you're spoken to! Go to your room," someone who looks like a servant scolds her.

The little girl runs up to her room with tears in her eyes. She takes a pair of scissors. Snip. The ribbon, along with about five inches of hair, falls to her feet. Her bangs fall into her eyes, and the big, dreamy eyes are gone. Broken. And she remains silent. And the image goes blurry.

Err… what just happened? How did that image just slip through so easily? I thought I had my guard up. No, I _know_ I had my guard up. I also think Elsie might have been right; emotions do affect me. And it's driving me crazy.

Time to get some serious help.


	27. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

"Okay folks, this is the end of my route. Everyone off," the conductor says into the loud speaker.

We all unboard the train into a town called Crowsville. It's little over a quarter of the way to our destination. The trees are all a black-grey color, with no leaves, and a bunch of big, black crows flying around the treetops.

I have to say, it would take a lot less time if we didn't have to go around all of the stupid mountains in this country. I guess it's mostly the Seiiki mountains, since the Shugo are in the most Northern part. It's a real pain, though, whatever mountains we can't go through.

Okay, so my next issue: the vision. Why? How? I could've sworn that my mind was sealed better than… something really, really tightly closed? Err… anyway, what happened? I really need to talk to Greta.

We head towards the inn. As soon as we sign in, I say, "I need to find a phone," and race off before anyone can say no. I'm (technically) an adult. I can go and find a phone by myself.

"Um, excuse me," I ask a woman with a baby cradled around her, held in a cloth sling, "Can you tell if there's a phone around here?"

The woman smiles a tired smile. She points down the street and says, "There should be one just down the road. Outside of the second-hand shop, if I'm correct."

I thank her with a quick nod and a smile, and run down the street. Her smile is so kind. It's refreshing to see someone be kind to you, out of habit, not because they're scared you'll kill them or something stupid like that. I spot the second-hand shop. In front of it, mounted on a wooden post, is a brassy-colored pay phone. I walk over to it and pop two Senz into the slot. That gives me 5 minutes, not a second more. I turn the dials to the numbers for the Grimm's Hollow Dealer Quarters. It's a surprisingly easy number to get. It really surprises me that we don't get any prank calls.

I listen to the ringer go for a couple seconds.

"Hello?" Gordon's gruff voice asks.

"Hey, Gordon, It's 'Sid. I need to talk to Greta. I don't have a lot of time."

"Hello 'Sid. I'll go and get her."

I hear the phone *click* as it's put down. A second later, Greta picks up. "Hello, 'Sid. How are you all doing?" She asks in her sing-song tone. Optimists.

"We're all okay. Just got into Crowsville. Listen, I don't have a ton of time to talk, but I need your help. A memory slipped through my Wall earlier today. I probably sound like a wimp, but honestly, I _swear_ I had it up. Is the Wall gonna work forever? It's already weakening. I can feel it," I say.

"Oh my goodness. I was afraid of this. The Wall is actually a very elementary technique, and for stronger psychics, it's no good. I guessed you were one of those stronger types, but I myself am not, so I only know basic things. I may know someone who can help…."

"Great!" I exclaim, "Can you hook me up with a name?"

Greta hesitates for a second, as if she's not sure what to do. Then, she sighs, "Ginger Frankstine. You might find her at the Dealer Headquarters. I warn you, though, that you should watch yourself around her. I think we all know your special talent for making friends. Just try not to get on her bad side. At times, she can make Elsie, bless her heart, seem calm."

Four and a half minutes have gone by. My time is almost up.

"Thanks, Greta. I gotta go."

"Good luck, Obsidian, good luck."

*Click* goes the phone as I put it back on the receiver.

_Ginger Frankstine_. I've got to remember that. By the sounds of it, she's a bit out a demon. Oh well, I've been to Hell and back already. A demon isn't much more, right?

Life and its demons. What else is new? It's a shame that demon repellant isn't for sale. I could use a boatload of it.


	28. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

The fireplace in the inn blazes fiercely. *Burp* Aw, that soup was good. Elsie doesn't exactly look as if she feels the same way.

"I hate eating out," she complains while bitterly stirring an almost-full bowl of soup in little swirls. "Nobody knows how to cook nowadays. Where can I find a kitchen? I'll show 'em how to actually give this mutant-sludge some texture and flavor."

Donnie belches louder than… never mind, I don't think there's a great comparison.

"Donnie, don't be a pig!" Elsie snaps. We need to find her someplace to cook before she eats our heads off and puts them on poles outside of the inn. Yeah, that's how ticked she is right now.

"When did you become my wife?" Donnie retorts, and sticks his tongue out at her.

"'Sid, what happened to you earlier? You just ran out," Sebastian says quietly to me while Donnie and Elsie fight like old biddies. They never stop, I'll tell you.

"I had to make a call," I answer. I yawn. Sheesh, train rides really do a number on you.

"To who?"

"Greta. I had another problem with a vision. One broke through. So I think I really need to find somethin' stronger. She told me to look for someone- Granger Freestine… no that's not it…. Gangy Frokestine? No… wait, I got it: Ginger Frankstine. Yeah that's it."

Until now, Falcon has been relatively quiet and… emotionless? But his eyes literally bug out of his head the minute I say this chick's name.

"Ginger Frankstine?" He chokes a little on the name.

"What, an old flame of yours or something?" Elsie teases.

"Err… it's complicated. Are you sure Elsie ADVISED you to go see her? What is she, crazy?" He seems just a little panicked, and afraid for his life. Is this Ginger lady _really_ as scary as she sounds?

"Yeah. Exactly. So is she a good psychic or what?"

"Yes… but good luck getting her to teach you. She never had much interest in that sort of thing."

Donnie and Elsie are still squabbling with each other. Pretty much at his limit, Donnie pushes back his chair, gives Elsie the old one finger salute, and walks out. Nothing new there; just like any old night back in Grimm's Hollow.

How reassuring. A psychic who "never had much interest in that sort of stuff". Just fantastic. Score one for Team Obsidian.

Falcon excuses himself to "get some air". Yeah,_ sure_ you are, Falcon. Probably went to barf in a bush or something. Even Happy Barf. He didn't look exactly thrilled to hear the news, but he does have this way of keeping his expressions to himself (mostly the happy ones…).

Tons of little scratched and scuffs cover the thick, worn-down table. I run my finger along on of the big scratches indented into the wood. Memories are trying to push down my Wall. I can feel the fists pounding against it, and what's worse, I can feel some pushing through. I see a few faces, the beaten and the broken down, who sat at this table. Sometimes they didn't even _sit_; some got stone cold drunk and just slept on it. I can feel the shots of pain in my head. My stomach starts to do a flip-flop. I stop tracing. The headache lessens, my stomach settles down, and the banging stops.

I look up; Sebastian is looking right at me. He kind of looks at me all in a trance-like state. He breaks his stare when he realizes what just happened, and blushes. Forget his confusion; I'm a lot more confused than him!

Sebastian awkwardly excuses himself, saying that Falcon just called him.

Elsie smirks. "What?" I ask her in alarm.

"I think you have yourself an admirer," she laughs.

"NO. Just No," I can feel the heat in my cheeks.

And this just makes her laugh even more. "Relax. It's just a crush… it happens. I had a bit of a school-girl crush on Falcon, once upon, oh, I'd say about nine years ago, give or take. You'll warm up to it," She says. Does this woman ever stop?

"Y-yeah, whatever," I stutter.

I think I'll choose to ignore this for now. Sheesh, this has made things a wee bit more complicated. I can't stop thinking about things. What can I say, sometimes I over-analyze situations. For example the hand-squeeze on the roof a few days back: Friendly reassurance, or him trying to make a move? Actually, probably not so much "making a move"- I can tell, he's not that kind of guy (not that I know much about guys…). God, she's turned me into a hot mess!

Not that I'm not a hot mess already.


	29. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

We were back on the train for another eight hours or so. By the time we rolled into the station, we were tired, hungry, and _really_ sick of each-other. We ended up bunking in a small town called Irontown. It's really close to the Seiiki Mountains, so there's a lot of mining, mills, and machine shops down there. You can practically smell grease and coal in the air when you first pull into the train station. You get pretty used to it, too. Except Elsie, who is too stubborn to get over the fact that we're out of Grimm's Hollow, which is over-populated with bakeries and little food stalls all-over. It smells real good there. I kind of miss "home", but it's not so bad to be seeing a lot of the country, because I've never actually been farther than a few towns away from Grimm's Hollow. Okay, got that so far? It's just one totally, completely, _normal_ day. We'll get up bright and early, catch the eight a.m. train, with a full eight hours of sleep under our belts. Right?

Yeah. And I have a purple pet hippopotamus at home in our bathtub.

Four a.m.: A huge blast shakes me so I fall out of bed and onto the cold wood floor. Elsie has already shot up, pulled her shoes, and grabbed her bag of who-knows-what. Probably some of those poisonous knives that'll melt your face off if you get splashed with enough of it. Or something really nice like that. I strap my knife to my arm, pull on my boots and a jacket, and hop up. Naomi is already up, and if I'm guessing right, ready to move. Elsie opens up the door. At exactly the same time, Falcon opens the door across the hall, making them almost knock heads. At any other time, I would laugh. I take a deep breath as we run down the hallway. No, we're not running away.

We're running _towards_ the danger. Yes, we're crazy like that. You either get over or it, or stop reading. Your choice, no pressure.

Smoke billows from the roof of the local Dealer Quarters. On top of that roof, stands a man dressed completely in black. I wouldn't be able to see him, if it weren't for the fire. An Enigma, I gather.

Running closer, I can see a battle raging on ground level. Two guys, who look almost exactly alike, take on three Enigma. Another man is viciously fighting two more. And I can see someone else in the shadows, although I can't quite make out whom they are, fending off two. Even though their effort is overwhelming, I can see it's a losing battle. I squint to see if I can make out some of the shadowy figures. Most of them are young-ish men, with a few women scattered about. One of them has dark hair running down her back, and the distinctive bright red lips that just strike up recognition. And then, it hits me: The Enigma woman who attacked Donnie and me. I cut her pretty deep with that poison. I mean, it should've taken her more than a few _days_ to heal- shouldn't it?

"What're ya doin', kid! Get outta here!" One of the identical men yells.

Kid? I'm _not _a kid, thanks for asking. Not if I have to deal with this crap, along with other issues in my oh-so exciting life. I let out a huff.

Falcon comes into view, battle face on. "Been a while, guys," he says to the two men while immediately side-kicking one of the Enigma they were battling.

The Enigma grunts. She speedily launches an attack in response. The Enigma woman throws a dagger at his head, her psychotic. It barely misses his head. Yep, it's definitely her, I'll tell you that.

I feel a rush behind me. That little sixth sense that most people seem to have is screaming at me that someone is watching. I pull my knife out of its sheath. My muscles tense. I swear there's someone standing behind me. I quickly spin around, just to be greeted by no one.

"'Sid, behind you!" Donnie yells.

I look over my shoulder. A fist meets my face, slamming into my nose. Blood gushes down my face. I wipe what I can, and quickly regroup.. I've been in a lot worse shape, so this is nothing.

I put up my guards. I spit some of the irony blood out. And now for the real fight.


	30. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

The attacker cackles, "I can't believe you fell for that! You stupid little-"

*WHAM!* I snap-kick him right in the stomach, and follow up with a quick back hand. He grunts, and throws a roundhouse. I didn't exactly stop him, but at least I got a hit off of him.

"Why don't you fight before you make a statement about how 'stupid' I am?" I growl while dodging his kick and throwing a kick… err, down there. And he had better thank his lucky stars, because I _just_ miss.

He kicks me hard in the ribs. I wince and stumble back a step. But only a step.

When you're in a life-or-death fight, everything feels so surreal. The whole world slows down, like you're underwater. Adrenaline pulses through you, blood pounds in your ears, and your heart beats like a bass drum.

There must be at least ten Enigma, maybe more. I can barely see my enemy in the pitch dark. The fire on the roof was a pretty good light source, until Donnie and Naomi put it out just moments ago. Darkness: Just an added bonus to fighting freaky, elite spies/warriors from Kinzhal. At 4 in the morning, that makes for one heck of a time.

I slice at him with my poison knife. All I get his air, but a drop of poison flies off the knife and onto his face. I watch as a little spot of flesh dissolves. His eyes water up in pain.

"AHHHHHHHH!" He shouts in pain.

Okay, if that little drop made him react, then imagine if a whole bunch- Bingo.

"Elsie, give me some of that knife poison," I shout at Elsie, who is engaged in battle not ten feet away from me.

As she throws a side-kick, she grabs a vial filled with the clear liquid out of her bag and throws it to me. I dodge a punch and clumsily catch the vial.

"Don't drop it, you klutz, be careful!" Elsie warns me as she blocks a jab at her neck.

I uncork the bottle and splash some of it into my opponent's eyes.

A blood-curling scream fills the air.

"How do you like me now?" I sneer at him.

"Retreat!" An Enigma woman yells when everyone realizes they can use Elsie's poison in more ways than one. Black smoke clouds erupt all over, and suddenly, we're left alone.

I wipe the blood from my mouth. My nose is still bleeding a little bit, I have more bruises than you can shake a stick at, but other than that, I'm okay. I look down at the half-empty vial of poison I'm still gripping like my life depends on it. How can something so small be so deadly?


	31. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

I look around me. Faces are covered in cuts, bruises, and blood. Sebastian's arm hangs limply at his side. He tries to move it, but it's no good: it's broken.

"Is everyone okay?" Falcon asks.

We all mumble our affirmations that yes; no one's been cut to pieces or beat to bits.

'Falcon, Elsie, what're you all doing here?" A man in his early forties (give or take) grins, 'And who are these wee lads and lasses?"

"Hey, Bruce, what's going on?" Elsie coughs.

The two guys, named Axle and Rod if I heard right, smirk. It's as if they have a really good inside joke that they're not sharing anytime soon.

Falcon smirks back and says to them, "You two haven't changed a bit," then he turns back to Bruce and answers, "These are our Apprentices: Sebastian, Naomi, Donnie, and 'Sid."

"And for your information, we're not 'wee'. We're not even kids," I say, annoyed at the fact that he just implied that we're little kids.

"Yes, you are in fact, 'wee', and yes, you are kids," he answers calmly.

"No. If we're acted to act and work as if we're adults, then we should be counted as adults," I continue to argue.

Axle and Rod both say simultaneously, "Okay, whatever you kids say." They both snicker as I glare at them.

"That's enough." Falcon shakes his head at me.

Bruce motions for us to come inside the Irontown Dealer Quarters.

He lets us in through the side door. On the outside, Grimm's Hollow and Irontown Dealer Quarters aren't very different, but inside, on the other hand, theirs is very unlike our own. There's a lot more- metal. Tons of auto parts and tools are lying on tables, hung on the walls, and boxes full of them are littering the hallway floor. There's (roughly) a two foot wide walkway to get through to the rest of the house. And it smells a little burnt from the _very_ recent roof-top fire.

Sebastian is still cradling his arm in its useless state. Falcon whispers something in his ear, and Sebastian hurries off into another room. I wonder what that was all about.

"So, are you three the only Dealers in town?" Donnie asks, looking only half-focused on the question he just asked. His eyes dart about the room. Knowing Donnie, he's probably charting out possible exits and stuff. I don't know who else (you know, besides those Enigma loons) would bother to ambush us this dang early in the morning. Or late at night. However you want to look at it.

"Nope, we have another. She was there when the Enigma showed…. But it was pretty dark, so you probably couldn't see her an' she probably snuck back to the garage as soon as they split," Rod answers.

"Who is it?" Donnie asks.

"Ginger," Axle answers.

"Is her last name _Frankstine_?" I ask.

"Actually, yes. Why?" Bruce says.

"I need to talk to her."

'Hold on, girlie. Why do you need to do talk to her?"

"Okay, do you know Greta Vanger? Older lady, dresses like a thrift store barfed on her, extremely nice. She told me to look for Ginger at HQ, but she's apparently here. I've been… having some issues, and I need her help to fix them."

"Are you a psychic?" Bruce asks. When I nod, he continues, "She's not real big into that, but I'll tell you, she can be a tricky little devil when she decides to use her ability. But… I don't really recommend you trying to prod her into it. She usually works in the shop when she's flustered, and even when she's in a decent mood, she has quite a temper."

"'…Not real big into that…quite a temper…' Where's your shop?" I say, already standing up and ready to go.

Already realizing that I'm not going to listen to a word of warning, Bruce points me down the hallway. "Take a left when you get to the end. Good luck, 'Sid."

"Thanks."

"GOOD LUCK ON NOT GETTING YOUR HEAD TORN OFF AND PLACED ON A POLE OUT FRONT!" Axle and Rod shout after me merrily.

"Shut up!" I yell back at them. What a bunch of… but they're right.

I'm going to need some good luck for this one.


	32. Chapter 31

Chapter 31

I take a big, deep breath and open the creaky door to the garage. The scents of motor oil, axle grease, and other chemicals that will blow up a house all rush up my nose in a burning sort of sensation.

A pair of feet sticks out from under an automobile. The sound of little clanks and screeches grind at my ears. I put my hands over them to try and block out the noise.

"Hey, are you Ginger Frankstine?" I ask a bit loudly, trying to compete with the squeaky bolts and screechy screws.

A woman with fire-red hair and a coveralls slides out from under the vehicle. She lifts up her goggles and raises an eyebrow at me.

"Who the 'el are you?" She says bluntly, standing and folding her arms at me in question.

"'Sid Steele-"

Ginger stomps past me. Her work boots thud as she makes her way up the wooden steps and through the creaky door. I follow her quickly.

"Bruce," she growls, "Who is this little girl and WHAT is she doing in my garage?"

"Relax. She's just an Apprentice way up there in Grimm's Hollow. Actually, we've got about three-fourths of the crew here, what with that crazy incident we just had.

Falcon gives Ginger a little wave and a smirk. I can practically see the steam coming out of her ears. This sends Falcon into a giddy fit of slap-happy laughter. She rolls her eyes at him.

"Come on, Ginger, she really needs a hand," Bruce says calmly, clearly used to fits of rage like this. I'd put my money on mental instability, but… Wait, don't I have that, too? Hmmm…

"I ain't gonna help this kid for nothin'! No way, no how, goodbye." She argues.

"Hello! I'm right here," I interject, "And don't get your panties in a bunch. I've barely said ten words, and you already go off. Worst of all, you don't even INCLUDE me in your little argument, so I'm just left here to gawk like an idiot."

"Stay out of this, kid," she sneers.

"I'M NOT A FREAKING KID SO GET OFF MY CASE!" I scream at the top of my lungs, "YOU'RE SUCH A JERK! I DON'T CARE IF I JUST MET YOU A FEW MINUTES AGO, OR IF YOU THINK I'M JUST A KID, I _NEED_ YOUR HELP!"

She looks a little bit taken aback for a second, but she quickly recovers. "You're a kid. And I'm not helping you. I've heard bits and pieces about your psychic abilities, and frankly, I don't involve myself in psychic problems."

I glower at her. "I will figure out a way, I hope you realize. You're gonna help me, whether you know it now or not."

She glares back at me. "I may not like psychic powers, but I can tell you one thing: I don't see myself helping you in the future."

She turns around, stomps back down the hallway, through the door, and slams it behind her. And people think _I_ have a temper at times.

Do you know what freaking annoys me so much, I'd like to slap someone? It's the fact that I'm a kid, but at the same time, I'm not. We risk our hides for something I don't even really believe in, but for the "sake of our country". It's not really a noble cause, like saving little kids from bandits or something. It's a load of crapola that I'm supposed to buy into, and personally, I hate it. I want to choose my own fate…

The adults are all a bit crabby (especially Falcon, the King Crab). It's not quite six in the morning, and there's a coffee shortage at the moment. It's expensive and we don't exactly have cash coming out of our ears, so too bad for the coffee addicts. I'm glad I'm not one of them.

I'm sitting in the corner right now and nibbling a bagel. Sebastian rubs his arm a little and sits down next to me, in one of the few places not covered in some sort of machine-related item.

I do a double-take._ Is his arm healed, or is it just me?_

"What happened to-" I point at his arm.

He smiles at me like I've hit my head on something and have started hearing The Voices. "What are you talking about? Nothing happened. It's just a bit sore, is all."

"Where did you go?"

"The bathroom," he answers. He looks away and blushes.

Uh-huh. "For an _hour_? Come on, you're a horrible liar." I playfully punch him in the arm.

As soon as my fist connects with his shoulder, the pain starts.

It shoots through my brain like an ice-cold bullet.

A little boy, Sebastian, cries while holding his dead mother's hand, sobbing into her lifeless chest. His father stands behind him, trying to comfort Sebastian but not able to find the words. The five-year-old Sebastian looks so confused. He keeps pleading with his dead mother, "Mama, Mama, wake up, WAKE UP!"

I open up my eyes. I didn't even realize they were closed. I grab my head. It's buzzing with a devilish headache.

Sebastian reaches out a hand. "P-please don't touch me," I wince at the pain seeping through me.

I struggle to my feet, and muster up enough strength to march out to the shop. Now I KNOW, she's gonna help me, whether she likes it or not.


	33. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

Once again, we're sitting on the train. Thank God, we only have to ride for a few hours. Head Quarters isn't too far, according to the Dealers.

So, you know earlier today, when I saw Sebastian in that vision? When I was about to totally break down? When I told Ginger, she laughed a little. She _laughed_. L-A-U-G-H-E-D, _laughed_. So, can you guess what I did then? I socked her right in the kisser. Nobody was too thrilled with me, but it couldn't be helped. I guess none of the more aged Dealers could see that, because I've been exiled to the back of the train. I'm really not proud of it, but it had to be done.

You should have seen her face. Her mouth kind of hung open for a moment in shock. Then, she must've gotten her bearings, because she threatened to take a torch to me if I didn't get out of her shop.

Two almost identical men, I'd say 18-, maybe 19-years-old, plop down across from me. Axle and Rod are their names, from what I've been told.

"I thought I was being ostracized," I say coldly.

Both of them grin. "Aw, it's much more fun to aggravate ya-" Axle begins.

"-Then to ostracize ya," Rod finishes.

"So, are we doin' a good job?" They ask in unison.

Do they do that all the time? I mean, talk as if they've got linked brains or something.

"On a scale of one to ten, I'd say you two get a negative three," I answer with a smirk, "But I suggest you leave me alone if you're gonna try that."

"Ah, well, being around Ginger for all of these years has made us immune to all that. But I can see you're a feisty one," Axle says.

I roll my eyes. "They say I have a great talent for 'making friends'."

Rod laughs, "Then you an' Ginger must be great pals!"

"Yep," I say sarcastically, "We're the best of buds. So, how do you know Falcon and Elsie?"

Axle begins, "When we were Apprentices, they had somethin' called 'Dealer Convention'. They figured it was a great way to get Dealers to talk to one another, since society pretty much ignores us. We all somehow met there-"

"-An' kept in touch since. Gosh, that's prob'ly Elsie's fault. We both had a huge crush on her. 'Course, it didn't work out since she's five years older than us, so we gave up," Rod finishes.

Naomi sits down next to me. She scribbles in her little black notebook. "They're having quite a falling out over there," She says in that eerily calm voice she seems to use no matter the situation.

I sit up and stretch to peek over the seat. Scanning the train car, I see Sebastian plucking at his guitar, Donnie looking out the window, Elsie reading a cook book (who reads a _cook book_? Don't answer that!), Bruce tinkering with his watch, and Falcon and Ginger speaking to each other in that whisper-yell tone people use when they're angry at with each other but don't want anyone to hear them fighting.

"Look, a lover's quarrel!" Axle jokes.

Rod laughs, "Sheesh, less than a day together and they already found a reason to bicker!"

I don't know what it is, but something about their argument strikes me as more serious than a "lover's quarrel". Maybe it's the look in his eyes. He looks as if he could stab someone right now. I really wish I could find out what's wrong.

Oh well, I think I'll close my eyes and try not to nightmare too much. Lately, that's all I've been able to accomplish with sleep.


	34. Chapter 33

Chapter 33

When we got off of the train in a town called Cinderton, we didn't go to another inn like the first two nights. Instead, the Dealers marched us towards a wilderness supplies store, where we stocked up on gear (three tents, water jugs, and enough dried fruit and jerky to choke a horse). Us Apprentices are sitting out on the steps, all trying to figure out where the heck HQ actually is. All I know is its nowhere near any towns, or else we wouldn't be lathered up with Elsie's Bear Repellant (some use Bug Repellant, others use Bear Repellant. Don't judge me).

As soon as we have all our extra supplies, the Dealers guide us towards the edge of the town, to the beginnings of the forest. I take one look at the sleepy little town before I disappear into the trees.

"Falcon," Donnie asks, "Can I ask _where_ we're going?"

"Be patient," Falcon replies calmly.

"C'mon, just tell me already! I really wanna know!"

"You know, for someone with top-notch analysis skills, you sure don't know when to ask questions and when to shut your trap," Ginger growls. Her lip is still swollen and a bit red from where I… a, never mind. That could put anyone in a bad mood, I guess.

As we trek through the woods, I can feel this little bubble of anger welling up inside me. Every time I touch something of importance or someone, I get someone's memory inside my brain. Do you know the kinds of weird and/or creepy memories I see? And now, _somebody_ who can possibly teach me how to block out the unwanted little buggers won't help me if I beg her like a pathetic person.

As soon as the sun sets, we set up the three tents, two for the boys and one for the girls. That means I'm stuck with Ginger. And to top it off, we're in a small enclosed spaced. It looks like she can hate my guts up close and personal.

We all sit around the fire eating jerky. It's kind of like camping. I've only been camping once (unless you count sleeping in alleyways "camping"); I was seven then. It was so fun. I remember my dad teaching me how to make animal traps, how to make a fire and my mom teaching me which plants I can eat and which not to, in case I got lost. What a bunch of worry-warts… but it makes me smile all the same.

Pretty much everyone but me has left the fire and is heading to bed. All who's left are Sebastian and I. He gives me a tired smile. He looks really beat.

"Hey," he says.

"Hey," I reply, "What's going on?"

"Oh, nothing much. How about you?"

"I think I've managed to make an enemy in less than twenty-four hours."

Sebastian laughs, "I don't think Ginger hates you automatically just because you gave her a fat lip. But you have to admit, that wasn't exactly the brightest idea on your part."

"Yeah… You know, Falcon and Ginger were really going at it this afternoon. Do you have any idea what they were arguing about? I couldn't quite hear them."

"Um… I think they were arguing about you. As far as I heard, Ginger doesn't really want to help you out with, you know, with all of the psychic stuff, and Falcon was trying to convince her to help out. Then, they got a little over-zealous about defending. I think Falcon was just trying to avoid a repeat of what happened this morning, and Ginger got a little bit ticked at someone trying to tell her what to do."

"Well, so much for 'making friends'," I joke. "By the way, how did you just know I was talking about Ginger?"

He laughs and shrugs, "I've never seen anyone argue that much since… Well, I don't know if I've EVER seen anyone argue that much in such a short amount of time." Sebastian yawns. "I think I'm gonna turn in. 'Night."

Come to think of it, I'm pretty sleepy too. I slowly crawl into my tent, carefully avoid crawling over an already sleeping Naomi, and climb into my sleep-sack.

"Pleasant dreams," I murmur to myself before shutting my eyes.

If only it were that easy.


	35. Chapter 34

Chapter 34

Black ash falls across my face. Blood… so much blood! It stains the snow that lightly covers the ground the darkest shade of crimson. The foreboding sky casts shadows of despair across the broken world. The smell is horrifying: burnt and bloody. In front of me lies a charred and unidentifiable body. Blood. A burnt body. Blood on my hands, seeping from my stomach, and in the air. So much blood…

I wake up screaming bloody murder. A cold sweat streams down my face.

Elsie sits up in surprise. "What happened?" she mutters in a half-asleep stupor.

"I had a bad nightmare. Sorry I woke you. I'm fine, really," I say as I try to excuse my heart-stopping shriek.

Ginger sits up too. "You're not fine. Come on," she says, "We're going on a walk."

"Where?" I rub the sticky sleep out of my eyes.

"Nowhere in particular. Just for a walk," She answers.

I pull on my boots, my jacket, and my black hat and follow her outside. Its pitch dark, except for the dim moon and the twinkling stars, trillions of miles away from us. The nighttime is so lonesome, but that loneliness I feel when I walk in it comforts me, in a way. There is no one to judge me, or to tell me that something that I can't control is wrong. Perhaps that's how we all think, although some don't really care to admit it.

We both remain silent as we walk amongst the trees, Ginger leading while I follow like a good nightmare-plagued Apprentice. After several minutes of walking to "nowhere in particular", she sits down on a large rock. I continue to stand.

The silence continues for another minute or so, until Ginger suddenly breaks it. "I need me to tell me about your nightmare. Actually, scratch that; I shouldn't call it a "nightmare", but a vision."

I hesitate for a second, but think better of it and resign myself to spilling it. "It looked like a massacre. The snow was soaked with blood; ash was coming down… the whole world was in chaos, in a sense. There was fire, and in front of me was a body… a charred, dead one. It was scary. It was even a long dream-"vision"- a long vision. I woke up screaming as soon as I saw the body."

Ginger's expression changes, the straight line her mouth was dropping into a slight frown. "That's not good," She comments. Her right hand massages her forehead, wrinkling from her new-found troubled face.

"Not good? Is there something that you're not telling me? I mean, it was just a bad dream, after all."

"Well, physics like you or me usually dream about two things: the past or the future. Sometimes it's more like a mixed-up photo album than a chronologically-correct record, but either way, it's still the past or future. Hence, the reason I called it a _vision_, smart one," She says with a little irritation. After a slight pause, she continues, "I don't know much about you but I'm guessing since you don't know what this means, it'll be future. I remember when I was first starting out, a lot of the visions I had while I was sleeping had to do with people closely associated with me… I think that goes for most psychics. Someone you know may die a very painful death," Ginger says on a more solemn note.

_Someone you know may die a very painful death. _Oh my God. I wake up like that all the time, but I never really dreamed that it meant anything. I've been dreaming stuff like that since I was ten, mostly about my parents' death. Why does it have to start counting now?

"You _have_ to be joking. So I'm going to have to stand by and watch someone die?" I exclaim.

She shakes her head. "Look," She says carefully, "As far as I think, the future is never set in stone. Your three cards may be inevitable, but anything else is still uncertain. Futures are affected by so many tiny factors. It's like this: If you're not dealt the Death Card, you never know when you'll drop dead. You can change it, because the future that remains unaffected by those stupid cards is yours!" She slams her right fist into her left hand. Someone's starting to get fired up.

"I can't control my visions though. How can I even try to change the future if I can't keep myself from being pelted with visions when I touch a table?" I say. I ask her, "Will you please help me?"

Ginger takes a deep, suddenly frustrated breath, "Why do you need_ my_ help?"

"Geez, didn't I tell you? I can't control visions of the past, and now I'm beginning to see the future. Greta told me that you could help me. So, will you?"

She hesitates. "I don't know…"

"Please!" I cry out of desperation.

She thinks for a while. "Alright, I'll help you. God, I've gotten soft," she answers reluctantly.

I don't jump up and hug her or sob big tears of joy. I simply nod at her with gratitude. She nods back.

"I assure you, it won't be easy," she cautions me.

"Whatever it takes," I reply.

"I'm glad you said that. Because I'm going to put you through your own little Hell," she says intently.

I gulp, but remain set on what I have to do for the sake of my sanity. " Like I said, whatever it takes."


	36. Chapter 35

Chapter 35

I chew a gritty piece of jerky and glower at Axle as we hike through the middle-of-nowhere. Would you like to know what that knucklehead did? He dropped all of our jerky in the dirt this morning. That's all I was looking forward to- a nice piece of beef jerky. Considering my sufficient lack of sleep lately, I don't really think I'm asking a lot.

"Slow down 'Sid. It's not even 7 o'clock yet," Ginger calls after me sourly.

I slow down a little bit and wait for Ginger to catch up. Sheesh, some people don't know how to walk at a faster pace than a donkey. "Why don't you speed the heck up?" I mumble under my breath.

"Alright," she says after taking her sweet old time catching up, "This isn't really the ideal time or place to teach you this, but you're going to have to deal. It puts a lot of mental strain on the user when they're not used to it. We don't have much of a choice; who knows what those freaking Enigma are going to pull out of their butts?"

"Do you care to tell me what this mentally straining technique thingy is? You've been going on about it for some time now," I say impatiently.

She rolls her eyes at me. "I was getting to that. Have some patience, why don't you?" Ginger stretches her arms and looks up at the patchy sky. For her sake, I hope that she doesn't walk into a tree. "It's called Mind-molding. It's probably the most versatile of any technique a psychic can learn. That's because it can be defensive or offensive. Right now, you're going to defend. Well, I suppose I really can't teach you now… I wouldn't want you collapsing here. Tonight, when we set up camp I'll teach you."

At nightfall, we're almost at the foot of the mountain. After we pitch our tents and lit a fire, I find Ginger, ready to face it. To tell you the truth, though I suppose I would rather just crawl into my sleep sack and call it a night.

Ginger waits impatiently by the fire. Everyone else has cleared out, feeling rather nervous at her sudden change of heart. Personally, I think she may want to torture me more, but since I won't find another teacher within a thousand miles of here, I'm not really complaining.

"Are you ready for this?" Ginger asks.

"As ready as I'll ever be," I reply.

"I'm not gonna lie. This is going to be physically and mentally painful. I'll probably be dredging up old memories that you would rather let collect dust in a corner of your mind. You're going to have to push me out- with Mind-molding. Or face the consequences."

"Oh, that's it? Dredge up old painful memories, force me to block you out, physically and mentally harmful stuff- I'm glad that it's not anything _bad,_" I say sarcastically.

"What do you want me to do? That's how I learned, and if you don't like it, stuff it or find a new teacher! This is why I don't teach brats like you!" Ginger explodes at me like a small canon blast.

"Okay, okay, sorry. Can we just get on with it now?"

"Fine. I'm going to start now, so be ready."

I close my eyes, trying to hold everything in place. It starts to happen, regardless. The prodding around in my mind, I mean. Ginger takes memories, examines them, and just puts them back. As if she's searching for something.

"Got it," she mutters under her breath. _Got what?_

A flash of my dead parents suddenly hits me…their funeral… them, going up in flames… their ashes being shoveled into the communal urn. The shrouds flew up to the sky like little singed doves, then plummeted towards the earth like dead little black doves. It makes me want to vomit. I actually did puke on that day. I hardly could find any words or tears to describe what I felt, so I guess vomiting on the Urn Keeper's shoes had to suffice.

I don't know what to do, how to fight this. Everything I learned from Greta is utterly useless; my wall is as cracked and crumbled as an old, abandoned building. I suppose it's a good fit, because I abandoned that thing a long time ago. I have no idea how to Mind-mold. The memory replays over and over again, and I have no idea how to stop it.

"C'mon, push me out already!" Ginger snaps.

"I'm… freaking…TRYING!" I retort.

Mind-molding makes me think of one thing: clay. The sort of clay we used to use in Early School, when I was about five. Mine, however, in this scenario, won't budge, no matter how much I knead and prod. I try to mold my "clay" into a shield, but I can't even move it.

Sweat runs down my face in cold droplets. I can taste the bile in the back of my throat, the blood pulsing through my veins. If I don't figure this out, my head might just explode. I feel myself crumpling from…. Well, _everything_.

It stops abruptly. I look up at Ginger.

"You're going about it all wrong. Stop thinking 'shield' and start thinking 'defend'. Imagine that you're controlling an _army_! If you put yourself in that mindset, you'll eventually do it subconsciously," Ginger advises me. "Anyway, you look pretty beat. Go get some rest, and we'll try again next time we get a chance. Go on."

"I drag myself into the tent, and take off everything except my undershirt and shorts. A little cold for winter on a normal day, but this day is far from normal. I slip into my sleep sack. I dream a black night; no nightmares, no frightening visions. I guess my psychic side is dead from earlier this evening. I fall into a (for once) undisturbed slumber.


	37. Chapter 36

Chapter 36

I wake up to the sun shining brightly, the birds chattering excitedly, and a roaring head ache. As soon as I'm dressed, I join everyone in eating and tent-collapsing; afterwards, we set out for the foot of the mountain. After about an hour, we arrive at the foot of the Seiiki Mountains. Bruce leads us, for some odd distance, to the left until we reach another location, somewhat different but not by a lot. I don't really understand what these guys are going for, but I'll go with it.

"Why did you just lead us 1.3 miles north when that location would've been a more optimal climbing place?" Donnie asks smugly. He smirks, like he's just beaten his worst enemy in the contest to be smartest person on earth.

"'Cause we're not gonna _climb_ the mountain," Axle begins.

"We're goin' _through_ the mountain," Rod finishes.

Bruce lights a match and rubs the flame against the rock face. When that one goes out, he strikes another one and keeps going. I'm… very confused right now.

The moment the flame hits a dark spot on the rock, little pieces immediately crumble, leaving behind the shape of a skull. The Dealer sign, as I've come to know it. I have a skull pin in the same shape attached to my hat, although I don't know why.

Falcon pulls a key out of his black trench coat. The key is shaped normally, except the bit is shaped a little like a stamp. The bit is in the shape of a skull, which matches the hole. He places the key into the hole and gives it three good turns to the right. The mechanism, evidently inside the rock, clicks.

Rock shifts to the side to reveal a seven feet tall door. Although our older group members step inside like there's nothing peculiar about the door, Naomi, Sebastian, Donnie, and I are a little more tentative about it. Falcon sighs and motions us forward; he assures us we won't be eaten by giant cave rats. We enter a cavern, the ceiling being a couple hundred feet high. The ground and ceiling are peppered with stalagmites and stalactites. The points are probably sharp enough to spear straight through someone!

We make our way across the damp pathway to another wall. A thin slot opens to reveal a small pair of blue eyes. "We don't want your broomsticks!" A man says. His eyes crinkle; I would guess that he's smiling behind the rock.

"It's only 100,000,000 cos, plus shipping and handling!" Elsie jokes with a grin, "Act now, as this offer won't be valid for long."

Falcon smirks for a second at the joke. "Come one, enough with the laughs. Will you just let us in?"

The slit slides closed. Gears creek and groan as they, slowly but surely, open another entryway. Behind wear the door once stood stands a short, stout man, appearing to look a little like a dwarf from a fable.

"Sorry. Since so many Dealers have been arriving day and night, the guards (as I am) have been taking shifts at the door in pairs. Unfortunately, my partner has been gone for a while, and I've been bored senseless. Please, come in." The guard says.

The guard leads us through a narrow stone hallway. The hallway escalates into a spiral staircase, twirling in a tight coil. We come to a door at the top. The guard takes out a key shaped like a skeleton. He lifts the right arm, inserts it into the key hole, and turns it to the right. The door opens into a larger-than-life hallway.

The place is swarming with Dealers (and, most likely, Apprentices). I guess I never really realized how many of us there are… and scarily enough, not all of us are here. It's mostly just young and middle-aged people. I'm guessing they didn't want their old folks to break themselves getting here.

"Wait here, please. Living accommodations are still being sorted out. This was on a bit of a short notice. Now, if you excuse me, I must be going now. Good day," the guard says. He tips his hat before closing the door and disappearing from our sight.

Donnie, Sebastian, Naomi, and I all huddle in an awkward group while Falcon (known to everyone else hear as Phileas), Bruce, Elsie, Axle, Rod, and Ginger mingle with whom I guess to be old friends and acquaintances. None of us are really social butterflies, so this is a rare occasion for everyone. I guess when you're shunned by most of society for the greater portion of your life, you never really have time to expand on your "social skills".

An elderly man, perhaps the only one in the room, with a crooked walking stick saunters in through the mammoth door. The room abruptly becomes silent and turns towards him. The crowd parts like a wave. As he passes, everyone bows deeply to him. He bows back. I can see each one has a healthy respect for him, but who is this guy?

"Who's that?" I ask Falcon, who now happens to be standing to my left, in a whisper.

"That's the Head Dealer, stupid," he answers sharply.

"Well, _excuse me_," I retort with sarcasm. "No one really ever gave me a news flash."

The Dealer turns in the direction of my part of the crowd. He slowly walks through, his face wrinkled with creases on his forehead, laugh-lines around his eyes, and sinking cheeks. He's completely bald, except for a wisp of snow white hair on the top of his head.

Head Dealer stops in front of me. Not wanting to look like a disrespectful jerk, I bow to him. When I stand up straight again, he says to me with a sentimental smile, "You have your father's eyes."


	38. Chapter 37

Chapter 37

_You have you father's eyes._ What the-? _My _father… how does this stranger know who my father is… was… oh, forget it.

"What? How do you-"I stutter in awe.

"Your father, Windell Steele. Your eyes are just how he described them, Obsidian," he answers back in a completely casual manner.

"Did you know my-" I continue to stammer like an idiot.

"Never mind that. I'll explain, if you come with me. You too, young man," he gestures for Donnie to come, too.

We follow him through the crowd and up more stairs. He opens the door at the top, and we enter a room made of stone. It looks like a totally decked out bear cave! Actually, this whole underground set-up resembles a bear cave, but that's beside the point.

The Head Dealer takes a seat in a chair behind a large oak desk. Donnie and I sit in two chairs in front of him. The chairs are a little low to the ground, which makes me feel short and frankly, uneasy. Donnie's eyes shoot around the room like nervous pigeons. He's probably making a mental map of everything in the room.

"Ah… that's better," the Head Dealer sighs as he sinks down into the leather, "I've practically been running around since this morning. Oh, eighty-nine years old… I'm getting far too old for this. These bones are aching like nobody's business."

"Umm… What exactly did you call us here for…Sir?" Donnie asks sheepishly.

"And more importantly, how in God's name do you know my dad?" I interject.

The Head Dealer chuckles, "Relax, you two; one question at a time. I will answer the young man's-"

"It's Donnie," Donnie interrupts.

"-question. Thank you, young man. Now I need you two to explain exactly what happened when you lost the coordinates to the Enigma back in Grimm's Hollow. Phileas was a bit confusing and flustered on the telephone, you see, so I need a first-hand explanation."

Donnie, a bit irritated at the old man for still not using his name, and I explain everything from square one, starting from when we were given the assignment to when we were bailed out of jail. The Head Dealer takes it all in quietly. When we finish, he takes a deep breath. "Thank you, young man. That is all. You may leave now. Since the rooms should be ready about now, a guard outside will escort you to your room."

Donnie pushes back his chair and slowly walks to the exit. He looks back at me, giving me a thumbs up and a head nod before leaving.

The Head Dealer looks at me. "And now for your question, Obsidian."

"My question…? Oh yeah," I stammer, completely forgetting what I was pressing to be answer half an hour ago. Suddenly, it all comes back, and the questions start pouring out. "How do you know who I am? More importantly, how do you know my father? Was he a friend? Did you know my mother? How did you meet?"

The Head Dealers holds up his hands in defense. "Patience, young lady. I knew your father very well, although I'm not sure if you want to hear this answer. It may very well be upsetting to you, and will open up some very painful memories."

"I don't care! Tell me! It's going to_ kill_ me if I don't know!"

He takes a deep breath, and then sighs. "_Your father was a Dealer."_


	39. Chapter 38

Chapter 38

"M-my father was… a Dealer!" I find myself stuttering in utter shock.

The Head Dealer nods. "Yes. So to speak, you're a second-generation Dealer. This rarely happens. Most Dealers never marry, nor do they have children."

"I don't care if I'm this rare "second-generation Dealer" or anything. I just want to know, am I supposed to ditch the idea that my father had been a writer for Grimm's Hollow Post and suddenly think he'd been hiding a career as a Dealer from me (and possibly my mother) for my whole life, maybe longer?"

"Well, yes and no," the Head Dealer answers back with ridiculous calmness, "Your father was a Dealer. I met him when he was a mere Apprentice, and he seemed somewhat excepting of his occupation. However, when he met your mother, he asked to be relieved of his duty. Most were outraged; no one had made such a bold and dangerous request in history; it was like trying to defy fate itself. I could not allow him to resign, but I found a loop-hole; I positioned him as an under-cover Dealer. The Council of Heads put me as the direct authority over him. He was required to send no less than one letter every two weeks with personal reports. Well, he sent a letter every week, some with photographs. I remember the one he sent of his wedding, of his workplace, his cat, Ivy- there were so many," he answers. He pulls open a drawer; he takes out a whole pile of letters and pictures and places them in front of me.

I pick up one of my parents on their wedding day. On the back, my dad scrawled: _Well, it's that special day for me and my new bride, Faye. Isn't she so beautiful?_ I pick up one of me and my parents on my tenth birthday. Tears begin to well up in my eyes. That was the last birthday I ever spent with my parents. On the back of that one, it says:_ Here's my little girl on her special day. She's growing up so fast! A whole decade old, can you believe that?_ I'm wearing my new silver locket, the one I now keep my parents' and Evie's memorial pictures in. There's a picture of my mother behind her shop counter. It says: _This is my wife's brand new tea shop. If you think it looks amazing, then you should smell it!_ It takes me back to when my mom would bring me into her shop for the day. I can almost smell the spices, just thinking of it. After looking at several more pictures and reading some of the letters (there were a lot, so I didn't read nearly all of them), I came across a picture of me as a newborn baby. My face was pink, \blonde hair was still more like peach fuzz, and I was staring up at the camera with big, black eyes. The iris and pupil, like now, were exactly the same shade, making them blend into each other. I was wrapped in a pink and green blanket with little blue patches, and held by someone, who I guess was my mother. On the back of this one, it says: _My bundle of joy is finally here! Isn't she just so precious? And she has my eyes! See, didn't I tell you this would all pay off?_

A note in the envelope reads:

_This is our daughter, Obsidian. She arrived on January 13__th__, 1906. We named her for her eyes, which are black like Obsidian. She's so beautiful; it makes me feel like all of our hard work and determination was worth it. I can see that she's something special just, by holding her. Maybe that's how all new fathers feel, but I still think that I'm right. Take Care._

_Sincerely,_

_Windell Steele_

_W. Steele_

I look up and wipe my tears away. A look of sorrow crosses the Head Dealer's face. "I said that I would agree because of you, Obsidian. Windell wrote me, telling me that your mother had a child on the way. As you know, this is a quite dangerous profession. I feared something might happen to your father if he remained a full-time Dealer."

"Well, thanks for your effort. Too bad he and my mother still died, in a stupid train wreck of all things. I bet you already knew that, though," I say grimly.

"Unfortunately, I believe that I know far too much about your parents' death. It was a mere two days after I received the letter and picture from your tenth birthday that I learned of their terrible fate."

"Please, don't say 'fate'. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth," I say icily.

"I'll try to keep that in mind. But due to the time, I feel I must arrive at my point. That train accident was no accident. Your parents were killed- no, murdered- by the Enigma."

"The Enigma killed my parents! ARE YOU SERIOUS?" I exclaim. Sadly enough, I'm hardly surprised. What other bombs does the universe feel like dropping on me today? That I really have a twin sister who's an Enigma or the End of the World is going to commence tomorrow? "Why? Why my parents?"

The Head Dealer frowns solemnly, "The Enigma somehow received intelligence of the whereabouts of your father. Somehow, they knew that he would be on a train, which train he would be on, and the train's route and schedule, which allowed them to decipher when he would be getting on. It was only a matter of time before they set the bomb off in the middle of the country. It was publicly announced as a runaway train that crashed. The public has never been made aware of the Enigma, and nobody was going to make it suddenly apparent."

"How do you know all this?"

"We captured one of the Enigma involved in the scheme. As far as we know, the plot was meant to create panic within the community, but it backfired when the Dealers made it to the scene before the law enforcers or medics. He was posing as an operator of the train, and among one of the two survivors. The information I have shared with you was the only information he would divulge. He was executed shortly after."

I'm completely silent. Suddenly, I start to find my cuticles extremely fascinating.

The Head Dealer clears his throat. "I realize this is a lot for you to take in. I'm so sorry for-"

"I-it's… I'm fine. Thank you," I butt in. "Can I please go now?" I ask in a quieter tone.

The Head Dealer nods. Before I leave, he presses two pictures into my hand: My parents' wedding photo, and our family's photo from my tenth birthday. I fold them up and slip them into my pocket. He directs a guard, who was just standing outside a moment ago, to direct me to my room. I bow solemnly before I'm escorted out. We go back the exact way we came. The main hallway is only dotted with a groups of people here or there; compared to earlier, it's a ghost town. He leads me through a few more hallways in this labyrinth until we come to a doorway.

"This will be your room during your stay. Good evening," The man says as he hurries away. He leaves me all alone to stare at the doorway. The pack I've been carrying this whole time feels heavy. Heck, my whole body feels heavy. Everything I learned… it was all far too much to take in during one conversation. I'll have to think about it some other time. All I can say is, I'm getting back at those Enigma. It used to be a fight for my life, but now… It's a fight to get back at the murderers who killed my parents. It's very personal. For now, though, I'm going to have to ignore all this, because I'm exhausted.

I turn the handle that opens the door and go inside.


	40. Chapter 39

Chapter 39

I open the door to find two beds, a small night table, and a girl who is not Naomi sitting on one of the beds. She looks up to see me standing in the doorway like an idiot. The girl hops up eagerly and walks (and by _walks_, I mean _bounces_) towards me in a peppy fashion.

The girl says in a bubbly tone, "Hi! I'm Noreen! Well, my friends usually call me Nory, but you can call me either! What's your name?"

"Um… Obsidian. But you can call me 'Sid," I answer uneasily. "Am I in the wrong room?"

"Ooh, your name's pretty!" She says, bouncing like a hyper puppy; without answering my question about the rooms. Oh well, I suppose I'll just wing it. It could've been purposeful to put us in rooms with total strangers, after all. Yeah, that doesn't sound creepy at all…

"So… I just wanted to know why they put me in a room with a total stranger, no offense," I repeat my question.

"Oh, they said something about mixing people here and there to try to get Dealers and Apprentices to know each other! Kaishi is a pretty big country after all! I'm from Seiiki Junction? Where are you from?"

Oh, I think I know where Seiiki Junction is. We may have passed through it on the train at some point.

"I'm from Grimm's Hollow. It's kind of a one-horse town to the far north-west tip," I reply, finally remembering to set my pack.

"Wow! That's a long way away from here! I was only a two hour train ride and a day and a half's hike from here! That trip must've taken you forever! I mean, with all the mountains and stuff to go around, it sounds like a lot!"

"Only took about four days, but that's because we had a few road-blocks. You sure talk a lot," I say bluntly.

"Oh, sorry! People tell me that all the time, but no matter what, I can't ever seem to stop myself! Sorry, I'll try to be quieter if you want." She apologizes needlessly. "It's just, I guess I have a lot to say," She adds softly, looking a bit hurt.

"No… that's just you. I'm sorry, I don't really mind if you talk a lot. I just made a stupid, blunt observation and didn't think before I spit it out of my big pie-hole," I apologize, feeling like the world's biggest turd.

Nory grins again. "It's okay! I'm glad you're okay with me! Hey, do you want a snack? I have cookies!"

I almost turn her down, but when my stomach growls in protest, I can't refuse. Especially since she said "cookies". She hands me a cookies, and I take a bite. The cookie melts in my mouth. Mmmm.

I immediately say, "This is the best cookie I've had since…"

"Since when?" Nory asks while cheerfully taking another bite of hers.

"Never mind; they're _amazing_! Did you make 'em?" I exclaim.

"Oh, I'm really glad that you like them! I didn't make them, though; my friend, Sorrel, did! He's an Apprentice, like me, but he's a year older. I just became an Apprentice in December," Nory says excitedly. She makes dreamy eyes when she says his name, and pushes a lock of short, blonde hair out of her blue eyes.

"Hmm, that's strange. I'm an Apprentice, too, and there are three others in Grimm's Hollow alone. There have been a lot popping up lately, from what I've heard. You'll probably meet them soon."

"Cool! I-" Nory is cut off by someone screaming down the hallway, "Meeting at 2 pm sharp in the main hallway tomorrow, don't be late!" Well, that was really rude.

I hear a knock at the door. Before I can even open it, the handle turns and my three, ahem, _friends_ more or less barge into my room. Do you want to even guess who opened the door, because knowing them, it's obvious who the impatient jerk is.

I smack my forehead in annoyance. I turn and look at Nory. "What did I tell you? Here they are. Nory, this is Donnie, Naomi, and Sebastian," I say, then I turn to my friends and say, "This is Nory."

Nory beams and tells everyone that she's glad to meet them. Donnie's eyes follow her for interest. Call me crazy, but I don't think he's analyzing her as a threat.

Sebastian smiles and says hello. Naomi nods. Donnie stutters a hello. "Hey, we found out where you were and figured you might want to grab a bite to eat in the mess hall. Would you two wanna come?" Sebastian asks.

"Sure! I'm _starved_!" Nory says and flops down on her bed in over-exaggerated mock food deprivation.

We go down to the mess hall and load our plates up. All I can say is, this food is definitely comparable to what Elsie usually makes. Uh, don't tell her I said that; she'll knock my freaking head off.

Nory talks up a storm during dinner, making our fairly quiet bunch pretty talkative (besides Naomi, who rarely ever talks). Donnie doesn't take his eyes off her the entire time, as far as I can tell.

At about ten o'clock, I finally climb under my covers and blow out the candle next to my bed. I'm so tired, and so much happened today. I can't believe that my Dad was a Dealer… or can I? I guess that explains why I have the Dealer sign in the form of a pendent on my hat. It was put on my head by someone at my father's funeral. I guess they were trying to tell me about my father. What can I say, I was only ten; a lot of things went over my head back then. I was still an ignorant kid; I wasn't street-smart yet. Just a stupid, normal kid…

I feel hot tears start to roll down my face and hit the pillow. For some reason, I find myself wishing Sebastian were here, like the last time I cried about my parents. He would probably hold my hand and tell me it's okay, over and over again. That's the kind of person he is. Sometimes, we need someone who cares, no matter how tough on the outside we are. Evie was the person who cared for almost five years. Right now, I need that person; someone to hold my hand and tell me, "It's okay".


	41. Chapter 40

Chapter 40

I woke up at seven this morning, my face still a little bit sticky from crying. I dragged myself down the hallway to the bathroom to take a shower. For some reason, scalding hot water calms my nerves. For around ten minutes, I just sat at the bottom of the shower, trying to sort out my life. Without coming to any resolutions, I got out, dried off, and got dressed. I then sat on the little rug in the middle of the room and toweled off hair, which takes an eternity to dry. Afterwards, I went down to the mess hall and got some breakfast.

Sitting at the table, I don't really pay attention to anything. I don't talk to anyone; I don't make eye contact; I just keep quiet and chew my grits like a loner.

When I look up, it's because of the drunken middle-aged woman sitting across the table, making a scene. She bangs the table, slumping on the bench and looking all but dead. A half-empty bottle of whiskey is grasped in her hand as she takes another drink. Did I forget to mention that it's only 7:45 a.m.?

"Wah some? Is goo," the woman slurs.

"No, thanks. I'm good," I reply absent-mindedly.

"C'mon, is _real _goo," she insists, trying to push her liquor bottle at me.

At this point, I'm up to here with life. "DON'T OFFER BOOZE TO TEENAGERS, LADY!" I exclaim.

Heads turn to stare at me, and the room goes quiet. Yep, that's me; the crazy screaming girl who just disrupted every early-riser's breakfast.

At this point, the intoxicated woman is flinging her whiskey bottle around, splashing the table and random bystanders. A boy, more or less a year older than me, runs up and grabs the woman by her whiskey-flinging hand.

"Sorry about that! She's kind of a drunk. She isn't really in her right mind. I was supposed to watch her but she kind of… um… _staggered _off, and I couldn't find her," I poor guy stutters.

"It's fine. I would really suggest that you get rid of her booze, though. She's kind of making a mess," I say. He nods and yanks the woman up by her whiskey-flinging wrist, pulling her away. Wow, that woman really does stagger.

Since half the table is sprinkled in booze, I take a few napkins and try to wipe some of it up. The napkin starts getting soaked pretty quickly, so some of it gets on my hand. A sharp pain rushes through my head. My hand tingles where the whiskey touched it. I lay my head down on the table.

The same drunk woman appears drunk in an alleyway. The sky is dark. The same woman isn't quite the same, though; she's no longer babbling and staggering while gripping a bottle of her favorite liquor; she's dead. Not dead drunk. She's just dead. My first guess would've been that she's dead from alcohol, but that's not the case this time. A knife, dripping with warm blood protrudes from her throat. An Enigma knife, to be exact. Her eyes indicate that she never saw it coming.

Someone taps me on my shoulder. I turn around to see Elsie with a concerned expression on her face.

"You alright?" She asks.

"Yeah… I'm okay. Do you know where Ginger is?" I reply. Elsie raises an eyebrow as if to say, _you're lying_. She would be right, unfortunately.

"Right here," Ginger answers, suddenly standing behind me and a little off to the right. "Problem?"

"I need to talk to you," I answer her.

She nods. I follow her down the winding hallways and to her room. Ginger sits down on her bed; I plop down on the floor and lean against the bed on the opposite side.

"Okay, so what's the deal?" Ginger asks me.

"I saw the future."

"_No, REALLY?_ You're a _psychic_ and you saw the freaking _future_? You have _got_ to be _joking_," She says in sharp sarcasm. "That's what you dragged me down here for? God, 'Sid, I'm pretty dang sure that the psychic card that all psychics are Dealt has a strong indication that psychic see the past _and_ future." She rolls her eyes.

"Okay, first of all, I'm pretty sure you were the one who dragged me down here, not the other way around. Second, you didn't even let me finish. I've seen the future twice; once while asleep and once while awake (that time was about five minutes ago). Both times, I've seen death in my visions, and I just met one person who I know will die."

"Who?" Ginger asks with a little more intrigue than she initially had.

"I don't know what her name was. She was this drunk who was sitting across from me at breakfast and trying to force me to drink booze. Anyway, she started flinging some of it and it got all over the table. When I tried to clean it up, it got on my hand and it kind of made me see it," I answer.

"That explains it then. Objects or places that are close to people or even strong emotions can hurl a psychic into a vision before we even know it. Hell, even I sometimes succumb to the extra-strong ones, and I've been said to have a pretty strong defense."

"I'll try to remember that. Oh, yeah, there's one more thing that I think you may want to know: The woman who was dead had a knife stuck in her throat. That knife was Enigma."

"How do you know that?"

"You would know too if they were being hurled at your head repeatedly," I reply bluntly.

"Let me see."

"How?"

"Do you have any of that whiskey left? And I don't mean to drink."

I realize that I've been holding the napkin the entire time. I open my hand, unfurl the napkin, and hand it to her without question. Ginger takes it and sniffs it slowly. She closes her eyes, seemingly concentrated on it for some reason.

Ginger opens her eyes. "Her name is Helena. She's 47. Her birthday is in May. And, last but certainly not least: She's going to be dead very soon," Ginger rattles off the information matter-o-factly. How did she get all that from just smelling something? She's a lot better than I had originally thought. Ginger adds one more thing before I go. "I can sense from that scene as a whole that something big is going to happen soon; I can't put my finger on it, but it's something along the lines of a revolution."


	42. Chapter 41

Chapter 41

The meeting is supposed to start at two, so a few hours after the incident with the drunken lady and talking to Ginger, I go back to bug Ginger and practice Mind-molding. This time, I manage to put up a wall just strong enough to keep out Ginger's projections of my worst memories, which is better than nothing. It doesn't stop her from rooting through my private thoughts, though.

"Hmmm… That Sebastian guy, huh? I guess your taste isn't as bad as I would have thought," Ginger comments, probably pulling out a memory of one of the times we just sat together, alone. I feel my cheeks flush, and persistently try to beat her out of my head. I give her dagger-eyes, but she doesn't leave even when I give everything I have. Eventually, she loses interest and exits on her own.

After that little comment she made, I'm ticked off and don't feel like talking to anyone, least of all Sebastian for the embarrassment of it all, so I just wander around the hallways until about ten minutes before the meeting. By the time I find my way back there, the room is packed. I manage to squeeze into a seat between Elsie and, much to my displeasure, Sebastian. Not that he's a bad guy; Ginger just kind of put uncomfortable thoughts in my head. What is it with older women all wanting to stick their noses into my business? Elsie is even worse than Ginger, she just hasn't said much lately.

After a few minutes of anxious waiting, the Head Dealer steps onto the huge stage in front. I check Elsie's wristwatch; it reads 2:00 p.m. Dang, they don't joke around when they say "2:00 p.m. _sharp_". The nearly bald man clears his throat and says, "Attention. Welcome all. As you all know, the Enigma now have the ability to access the coordinates of hundreds of Dealer Quarters, where they would have access to the Formula, the Cards, and other valuable information. I have met with the Council of Heads, and have devised a plan of action to counter this unfortunate turn of events."

A boy is more or less pushed up the steps of the stage. The boy I met this morning! He stumbles towards the Head Dealer. The boy runs nervous, shaky fingers through his spiky dark brown hair. His pale blue eyes dart back and forth, back and forth, studying the crowd gaping at him with unwavering attention.

The Head Dealer places a wrinkled hand on the boy's shoulder. "This young man has agreed to trade himself, his life, to the Enigma in return for the coordinates."

My mouth drops wide open. Trade this guy's _life_ to the Enigma? Have they gone _mad_! I don't buy that this guy just willfully agreed to give up his life to a bunch of psychopaths, not for a split second. I can see it in his face.

"Sorrel!" Nory shrieks. Even though she's all the way across the room, I can see her panic. I can see it in her eyes, hear it in her voice. This is the boy who she was talking about, the one whose name made her face come alive ten times more than it was when. Right now, she looks like she may just throw up and pass out, that's how scared she is.

My hands are squeezed so tightly into fists, my knuckles are moon white. I can see nothing but disgust written across some faces; others look like they have no idea what to say.

The Head Dealer continues, "I realize this is a difficult sacrifice we are making, but it is for the sake of our country, Kaishi. 'Courage and honor to the end'." He finishes by saying our country's motto.

With that, he exits the stage. Nory bolts toward Sorrel, but two Dealers keep her from embracing him and sobbing. So instead, she runs to me and soaks my shirt with salty tears. Don't get me wrong, I understand, but…yuck.

I look at Falcon, who is part of the Council of Heads, and ask in an upset voice, "How can they do this? Who was the sicko who voted to use a poor kid, not much older than me, in a negotiation with some sick Enigma who will probably do horrible things to him? I'm gonna give those morons a piece of my mind!" I say angrily. I nearly turn to go confront some Dealer of high authority, but Falcon stops me in my tracks.

"No you're not! Stay here, or else."

"So you're saying that I'm supposed to stand by and let this happen? There's no way in Hell!"

Falcon's eyes practically pierce straight through my head. "That's exactly what I'm saying," He sneers, "Look, you can't do a damn thing about it, so shut your trap and deal with it," He sneers, "Look, you can't do a damn thing about it, so shut your trap and deal with it. He's going to die, but it's for a cause bigger than one person." He looks like he's been punched in the gut as he says this. Almost like he's been forced to say this, but he doesn't really believe in it.

I don't reply, but I still refuse to accept this. I walk away and go stand with the other Apprentices. It feels like I've been verbally slapped in the face.

"Meeting at my room, midnight," I say quietly through bared teeth to Naomi, Sebastian, and Donnie.

I f no one is going to try and save this guy, it looks like I have to step up to the task. With the help of a few people I trust, we're going to change fate. The fate of a boy who's fate is to deal fate. Ironic, I know.

I let out a deep breath. "Midnight it is," I say in a tone only audible to the person who just spoke.


	43. Chapter 42

Chapter 42

The room is completely black, except for one measly candle flickering in the middle. It's midnight. Nory and I are currently sitting up, waiting for everyone to arrive.

I hear a knock at the door. Before I can stand up, Nory dashes across the tiny room and opens the door. Donnie and Naomi stand, waiting to be let in. They hurry in, and Nory shuts the door quietly but forcefully.

"Is Sebastian here yet?" Donnie asks in a hushed voice.

We shake our heads. "No, not yet!" Nory says quickly.

We wait another ten minutes before we here a knock at the door. This time, I answer it.

"Sorry I'm late," Sebastian apologizes while slipping past the door. "I had to wait for my roommate to fall asleep. He'd probably blab this to everyone if he knew about it."

"No problem," I reply, closing the door.

We sit in a circle on the floor, with the candle flickering in the middle. It's only bright enough to see each other's faces, but it serves its purpose.

"Alright, let's get down to business. Why'd you call us here?" Donnie asks impatiently.

"Don't tell me that you didn't hear me argue with Falcon earlier," I say. "I'm gonna try to save that guy. You know, Sorrel, the one up on stage. I've already decided that for myself. What I _need_ is your help. All of you."

"Before I agree to anything, what exactly is your ingenious plan?" Donnie asks smugly.

"Hey, no one ever said that my plan is 'ingenious'. My plan isn't well thought out or anything, but here it is: we bust into Enigma territory and get the coordinates back, so we avoid the whole negotiation in the first place, thus avoiding the guy getting killed."

"I'm in! Done! When do we go?" Nory nearly hyperventilates at the thought of it all, for some reason.

Donnie looks a little taken aback. "Okay, I'm not gonna lie; that's definitely not the worst plan I've ever heard. But I'm trying to figure out how we'll get into the base, let alone over the Kinzhal border. Heck we don't even know where the base is, or whether there are multiple bases, or, if the second one is the case, which base they'll be keeping them at. We have no idea if we even have enough skill between the five of us to get them back," Donnie rattles off the facts that make my "plan" seem worse and worse. "So, who else is in, because I'm up for the challenge," Donnie shocks me by saying. Mr. Downer is in? Cool!

"I'll help in any way I can," Sebastian says next.

Naomi nods her head and gives me and uncharacteristic thumbs-up. Yes, I have recruits!

"So, leave all the planning stuff to me, 'Sid. I can find out what we need to know through some uh… well, it will sound worse if I say it, so I won't," Donnie says.

"I'll get some supplies together. We're gonna have a long road ahead of us, so I'd say we'll need it," Sebastian offers.

"I'll collect weaponry," Naomi says in a ghostly voice. Sheesh, it kind of makes me feel like there's some sort of other-worldly entity among us every time I hear it. Can someone say creepy?

"Um… I'll make sketches! Lots and lots of sketches!" Nory exclaims.

"Uh, Nory… how will sketches help our cause, exactly?" Donnie asks doubtfully.

"Wait a sec." Nory rummages through a bag until she pulls out a powder blue sketchpad. She tears out a page. When she holds it up, I see a drawing of little birds in mid-flight. Nory crumbles the paper into a fist; when she opens her hand, the little birds fly out and chirp.

My eyes widen in astonishment; I feel a little sad when the birds hit the ceiling and explode into a cloud of shredded paper. No one argues about her contribution, knowing full well now that she can make better things with that paper than birds.

Suddenly, little brief flashes of a vision hit me. A little girl, holding a sketchbook and drawing, smiles happily. Her father comes out, frowning at her. He screams that she should be focusing on more important things than frivolous things like art. She cries and tells him that she wants to be an artist, but he yells and says she isn't good enough, and rips her sketchbook in half. She desperately picks up the pieces, trying to piece the book back together. The next day, she smiles just as before, but inside, she's not alright. But she pieces her shattered confidence and hope back together, and keeps moving forward for everyone else's sake. I would bet my house (oh, wait, I don't own a house) on that girl being Nory, and that being the reason that she's so cheerful. No one comes without problems, I'm afraid.

When reality comes back into focus, everyone is looking at me like they're expecting me to tell them what to do next.

"I need to take care of something, too. Can we pull everything together by tomorrow?" I say. Everyone nods. "Alrighty then. We leave tomorrow at midnight."


	44. Chapter 43

Chapter 43

"Ginger!" I yell as I bang on Ginger's door at 7 o'clock in the morning, hoping to wake her lazy butt up. After about five minutes of banging on her door, a barely dressed Ginger opens her door a crack just long enough to mutter some very colorful words at me. If I filter and paraphrase it a little, she basically told me to take a hike and leave her alone. Naturally, I keep making noise until she opens the door a few minutes later, fully dressed and a little more filtered in the vocabulary department.

"You're going to help me with Mind-molding today," I say efficiently. "I have a feeling today is the day I'm gonna get this right."

She raises an eyebrow. "Sure. And I have a pet unicorn," she says sarcastically. "Well, I guess there's no getting rid of you, so come on in."

Her roommate is still sleeping, but Ginger doesn't seem to particularly care. I watch as her roommate drools and rolls over, still in a deep sleep. Ginger points to a chair next to her bed. I sit down in it, awaiting my torture session. She sits down on her bed. "Ready?" She asks impatiently.

"Ready as I'll ever be," I answer.

I think I've figured out how to use Mind-molding. It's a lot like using modeling clay, in a sense. When you make something out clay and you think it looks like crap on a platter, you just smash it and start over. It's the same with Mind-molding; you have to shape it into what you want it to be. In my case, I want to smash it to bits and destroy it, if necessary.

Ginger pushes my memory at me fast. I close my eyes and catch it as it flies towards me. Slowly, I start to mold it. Squash it down, then push it out.

As soon as I squash it out of my head, I feel the pressure in my head lighten. Ginger's mouth drops open. She looks totally taken aback at the fact that I actually did this right. All I did was stamp it out. What's the big deal?

"Y-you just learned two techniques at once," She says in disbelief.

"What? No, I just squashed it out, like I supposed to," I argue, equally shocked.

She shakes her head. "No. I saw what you were supposed to see. That's called pushing it back at me, in my book. Trust me, that memory I chose wasn't pretty. I know they say the first time hurts the worst, but really, that would've hurt just as bad," She says. "If you can do what you just did again, you can use that with more than actual memories."

"How so?"

"Well… Mind-molding can be used to alter memories, or even make completely false ones. Like, say you want a cookie and your mom won't let you have one. If you know Mind-molding, you can construct a false memory of her saying you can have a cookie, and push it into her head. That's just an example, though; there's a lot more you can do with that. Not that I'd suggest using it. You're playing with the future, and manipulating the choices of the people around you. Unless, you know, that's not totally against your morals. If that's the case, I say go for it."

For the next few hours, we work on making fake memories, the pushing them at each other. By the end of it all, I can fend them off without breaking a sweat. The question is, will I be able to use this at the spur of the moment, or can I only do it while I'm focused. Around noon, both of us are starved from all the psychic training, so we go down to the mess hall and wolf down three times the amount of food women our sizes normally would. What can I say? The mind burns a lot of energy. Sometimes thinking burns more calories than physical stuff, and we were both doing some heavy-duty thinking.

_I wonder how everyone else is doing,_ I think as I chew my food. I trust everyone and all, but I'm jumping in my skin about this. I don't know, it just makes a person nervous when they're about to go off and totally disobey their bosses. Honestly, I'm just glad that I have my friends to lean back on.

_Friends._ To me, it's a word that feels weird to say. It leaves a bitter-sweet taste in my mouth when I say it. Sebastian, Naomi, Donnie, Nory- they've all become my friends. Besides Evie, they're my first _real_ friends. When I was younger, I never got along with the other kids. No one ever tried to get to know me. No one ever _wanted_ to get to know me. I was that girl in the back of the class who everyone always over-looked. It was for no reason at all. Maybe they all wanted someone to hate. I'm just happy that even though I'm a Dealer Apprentice, I've managed to make friends. Friends who care; friends who have chased after me when I run off on an emotional rampage; friends who will joke with me when I need a joke; friends who will hug me when I feel low; it's an alien experience. Sorry for getting so sappy all of a sudden, but it's all true.

I unhook the clasp of my locket and take it off. I fumble with the lock keeping it from opening, until it finally works. I peer into my Memorial Locket, looking at my past; my parents and my first friend. They're all dead now. Two of the three dead by Enigma. I slam the locket closed in my tight fist; I'll get those bastards who killed my life, my family. I'll make them wish that they were burning in Hell instead of meeting me, I promise.


	45. Chapter 44

Chapter 44

At midnight, we all gather in my room, the designated meeting place. Naomi and Sebastian load all the necessary supplies into our packs. Judging by what I see, Naomi focused on getting vials of Elsie's poison, as well as extra knives; we all get one of each. As soon as I see her put the two into Nory's pack, I take the two items out and explain to her how the poison goes on the knife and that it burns straight through the skin. A terrified look crosses her face, so I tell her that she can keep the knife and I'll keep her extra poison. Sebastian puts water jugs into our bags, as well as some dried food. The two essentials of hiking: water jugs and dried food; don't you ever forget it. He also puts in a piece of flint for each of us, and maps of Kaishi and Kinzhal. Nory shows us some of her fantastic sketches. Some of them are giant creatures, made to battle under their artist's command. Some things she made are more practical, like matches. Its Donnie's contribution, however, that probably helps us the most.

"I figured out there where the Enigma bases are. There are three in all: Base 1 is to the South-East, near their border; Base 2 is smack-dab in the center, right by the capital; Base 3 is located North-West, which is also near a border," Donnie says, "And I'd bet my paycheck that the papers are at Base 2, right at the center."

"Not that I doubt your ability, but how do you guarantee the papers being there?" I ask.

"I'm really not going to guarantee anything one-hundred percent, but I do have a theory behind it. No one in their right minds would put that type of information in Base 1, which is located ridiculously close to our borders. I personally think that the Enigma who launch attacks on us are stationed there. Anyway, Base 3 is relatively far away from us, but the problem is, it's near countries like Vona and Burdock, which, I'm sure if they knew about it, would take a stab at the information too. That leaves Base 2, which is right in the center of the country. It's protected from invaders, at least the short-range ones."

"Well, I sure hope you're right about this," I caution, "Because right now, we're betting a lot more than our paychecks on this being right. We're playing with fire already; if we get this wrong, we're getting scorched. No pressure or anything. So, have you figured out a way into Kinzhal?"

He frowns. "I haven't really figured that much out yet. I found a map with all the check points on the main road, but it's not likely we'll have a car or a truck, or even a cart. We don't have the proper credentials for Kinzhal, anyway. No I.D., birth certificate, nothing. Speaking of which, have you even found a way to get out of here without starting mayhem?"

I nod. "All covered."

Donnie cracks open the door to see if the coast is clear. When he says the coast is clear, we sneak out of the door and through the hallways. Donnie is in the lead, but only because he was the only one smart enough to find a map of the whole entire place.

Finally, we make it to the passageway nearest to the door. I peek around the corner. Sure enough, there's a guard posted at the door. He's a vigilant one, for this time of night, at that.

"I was hoping that I wouldn't have to do this," I mutter to myself.

"How are we going to get past that guy?" Sebastian asks anxiously after everyone else takes a little look-see.

"I could use a sketch of a _really_ pretty lady, and maybe he'll follow it," Nory suggests hopefully.

"Just leave it to me," I say.

Everyone seems a bit taken aback when I just walk casually down the hallway and start talking to the guard. It takes no more than a few minutes to "convince" him to open the door.

After we step out, he closes the door behind us. Everyone gawks at me in disbelief.

"What?" I say, "Did you think I just sat on my butt all day and picked my bellybutton lint?" Donnie opens his mouth to say something, probably to agree with what I just said, but closes it as soon as I shoot him a glare that could pierce through glass.

"How exactly did you get that guard to open the door?" Sebastian asks.

"It's hard to explain in one sitting. Let's just say that it's a creepy psychic trick that I don't want to make a habit of using," I say. When I get a few curious looks, I quickly add, "Don't worry, I won't use it on you."

That's what I spent all day doing. I molded what I figured was the best pseudo-memory that I'm capable of. The reason why was that I took a lot of time dredging up my own memory of the first time I came through the door. That was mostly to make sure I got the background right. Since I did it from the guard's perspective, I figured I had to engage in a short conversation, just so I could add his voice in. After that, it was only a matter of slipping my fake into his head.

We push a button on the inside of the cavern to open up the door to the outside. We walk through the woods all night long. By eight in the morning, we take a break, figuring we put enough distance between us and Head Quarters. I let myself slip into a subconscious sleep.


	46. Chapter 45

Chapter 45

I wake up on the hard dirt. The sun blares in my eyes when I look up. Judging by its position in the sky, I'd say that it's somewhere around two o'clock in the afternoon. Looking around, it appears that no one is up yet. I hear rustling in the bushes. I turn around and see birds, squirrels, Elsie, a pine tree… ELSIE?!

"HOLY CRAP ELSIE! How long have you been sitting there?!" I exclaim loudly, waking everyone up. Heck, I everyone within a twenty radius probably heard me yell.

"Hmm, it's probably been a few hours. I didn't want to wake you or anything, since I know what a bear you can be when you first wake up. You're up there with Falcon, except you get over it in five minutes and he's no use for the entire morning," She says nonchalantly, as if this whole thing is totally _normal_. Welcome to my life, I guess; normal and my life are an oxymoron.

I notice three other people propped up against the tree: Axle, Rod, and Ginger. "If you came here to take us back, you'll have to _drag_ me back in a body bag," I say seriously, staring straight at her and narrowing my eyes.

Elsie shakes her head. "Nope. We came to join you."

My jaw drops and my eyes widen. I thought for sure that we we're going to have to kiss this mission goodbye before we even said hello. "Seriously?"

"What possessed you to help us?" Donnie chimes in. His face has a red handprint imprinted on it from sleeping too hard.

"I don't know. I just figured that when I discovered you were missing and a guard was found really confused in the front hallway, I guessed that you guys left and headed out to try and rebel against what the Council of Heads decided," Elsie says. "So, what exactly are you guys planning?" Elsie asks.

"We're gonna go infiltrate an Enigma base and take back the lost information from the Enigma. That way, if we play our cards right, we won't have to barter a kid's life on some stupid information that the Enigma may not even decode anytime soon. We just have a few foggy details we'll need to sort out," I explain.

"Well, it's a dang good thing that we came to help. You people don't even sound like you know where you're going, but with a few experienced Dealers, you might have a shot," Ginger says. Okay, I highly doubt that we couldn't do it ourselves, but I appreciate the help nonetheless.

"How'd you know we left?" Nory yawns, "Oh, by the way, I'm Nory."

"Glad to meet you," Elsie replies, "And it was about six-thirty when I realized you guys were gone. I wanted to read my cookbook but I couldn't find it, so I figured one of you might have it. So, I went to all your rooms looking for it, but none of you were there. Then, I remembered your argument with Falcon, and it struck me that you had all hit the road. I got Axle, Rod, and Ginger to come with me."

"None of us agree with this," Axle says.

Rod says, "So we decided to help ya."

"We should probably head out," Elsie says as she stands up.

The rest of us follow her, retracing our steps back to the little town. When the sun sets, we stop to rest our legs and eat something, but other than that, we keep going until about eleven, when we come to the edge of town.

"Where do we go from here?" Sebastian seems to ask to no one in particular.

"Crash at an inn?" Axle and Rod suggest simultaneously.

Donnie shakes his head. "No, that would make it too easy for anyone to find us. They could come after us if they wanted. Also, we don't have time for any of that. We need to get transportation out of here A.S.A.P., but the trains don't run in the middle of the night. At least, there are no pick-ups until morning. What do we do until then?"

Nory jumps in the air excitedly. "I have a good idea!"

"What is it?"

"We can take the mountain lift!"

"What is that?" I ask, "I've never heard of one in my life."

"It's a suspended car that pulls you across the mountains. It runs all night long, and it's actually really fast, believe it or not," She answers. "It can pull us to a northern city, and from there it would be a pretty quick trip to Kinzhal."

It only takes a second for us to weigh the idea in our hands before Elsie says, "Okay, if no one else has any better ideas, I think we should go for it."

We all nod in agreement. After Axle and Rod go into one of the twenty-four hour pubs and get directions, we set out for one of the stations. A few miles later, the mountain lift station comes into view. It looks similar to a train station, except for the fact that there are cables escalating up parts of the mountains. The station is pretty small; the inside is decorated with nothing but three benches, a small furnace, and a desk with a seemingly sleeping man behind it.

"Hiya, Sir! When is the next car scheduled for?" Nory asks abruptly, startling the man from his nap.

After trying to look alive and adjusting his cap, the man answers, "In about twenty minutes. It'll take you all the way up to Boekersville, if you want to go that far. A trip like that will cost five hundred cos one way, one thousand round-trip."

"We'll all take the one way," Nory says, slapping her five hundred down on the counter.

We all dig around in our pockets and knapsacks until we come up with five hundred cos each. Nine tickets are placed onto the counter. We take them and fifteen minutes later, walk outside and onto the platform. A large suspended car on a track is waiting.

Once we're all stuffed in and ready to go, the man who sold us the tickets closes the door tightly. He pulls a lever that jolts us to life and makes us start moving forward, slowly escalating up. I can't say I like it too much. I close my eyes and try to get some shut eye as we leave the ground behind. No turning back now.


End file.
